A POEM AT MIDNIGHT BEFORE WE LEAVE

R.M. ENGELHARDT POET AUTHOR WRITER

A POEM AT MIDNIGHT
BEFORE WE LEAVE

On a cold
November night

Off in the distance
I can hear the crickets
& the frogs, the small fox &
It’s baby run across
The front lawn

Into the brush

It’s most near to solitude
Even heaven perhaps

Smoking my last
Cigarette of the day
As the moon hangs
Overhead

Questioning
Our existence

Our souls

And then?

I ponder
Reflect upon
The lives that we
Shall live once we
Leave this broken place

A nightmare

An America

No longer free
But a killing zone
A prison created by
Lesser men

Controlled by lunatics &
Billionaires

Cowards & sellouts

A graveyard
Without any humanity

Left

The smell of
Dead animals &
Death spreading
Across the land

Like hate