POETRY MENU!!!

Humanity

Try to imagine birdsong on a cold and windy night,
A beautiful sound amongst the gales.
Try to imagine a sweet pretty creature,
In the midst of a storm.
Impossible.

However hard it may seem, it happens.
Every day and every night, these things come and go.
Like a moth against a lighted window,
We are drawn to the charm of the Pied Piper's playing,
Then repelled, as if from a magnet.

Beautiful things seem ugly, wickedness is everywhere.
The devil is all around us; God is nowhere.
A leaf, falling from the sky, food to eat, a place to live.
These things, small as they may be,
However insignificantly minute,
These things do matter.

A poem, written on a summer's afternoon under a tree
By a lover, desperate to explain exactly how it is
That the world goes around, lies in tatters,
By the park bench, rejected, torn.
Why is it so, his heart is screaming. No one answers.

Never again will he love, his heart denies affection.
Why is the world so cruel, we are innocent of sin.
A newborn baby cries, so young, so helpless,
He has done nothing, save to be born into this inhuman world.
No one comes to comfort him, no one cares.

A man speaks about inanimate objects
To a seemingly interested crowd.
The looks on their faces show concern,
But their eyes are empty.
No one is listening to him.

He does his best to appeal to them,
To excite them with what he has to say.
Nobody cares. To them, he is just another face
Telling them what they should be doing, to save themselves,
To save us all.