PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The ants were less marching

than milling about.

"Freedom!"

I heard one of them shout.

Then a chorus of "Freedom"s

as they followed the sun.

One had a knife 

another a gun.

One had a sign on it read 'Peace"

'cause killing for peace bothered him least.

Speeches were made as day fell to night.

Flickering fires lit gave out dangerous light.

Voices were raised 'til all became din,

reason was ousted and not let back in.

Milling and rolling they bubbled and

Popped.

Buildings were burned but no ant would stop.

Laughing was heard amid the pained crys

but it's easy to hurt when you wear the mask of your lies.

Freedom real freedom

was burned, broken and bent.

Dead ants care nothing for all the lives spent.

.................

Pity 

yes pity, this macabre dance.

for after all they are just ants.

Looking for sunlight they praise the sun.

and drift in the wreakage of the battle they won.