This red apple orchard
is more akin to a garden
where Eve sleeps sweetly
and wakes to bite anew
each morning
This den of thieving wolves
stinks with the scent of the hunted
where bones are gnashed
and claws are sharpened
with precision
This flag of the nations
is tightening its grip
with commandments aplenty
keeping the citizens down
in the dirt
This pill in a bottle
tastes stale from chemicals concocted
in a lab without access
to the plants all around us
that heal
This march of the money
keeps its coins stored underground
where the pure gold was robbed
from the heart of the earth
without mercy