http://my.hsj.org/Portals/2/logos/__TFMF_jjv02x45zj0t0t45diva4t45_2784d2f9-6ef8-42c6-b70b-9b4e28707312_0___Selected.jpg en-us Copyright 2008 - All Rights Reserved. Sun, 22 Nov 2009 12:04:51 GMT 15 By John Montroy
The canvas fills with blues and greens pristine The windshield smears with colors all too real It hides the mangled bruises yet unseen Those filthy shrines are stamped with human seals By day we fight an intellectual war Polite debate and endless forced restraint Red herrings fly, can't know what we fight for The fight is smeared with heavy, broad white paint There comes a time when we can't take their alms Our nature wakes and massacres their pride The shears let out a groan as metal falls No grass, nor trees, industry homicide I clean my windshield, colors drift away I see reality still stands at end of day ]]> Wed, 02 Apr 2008 11:17:00 GMT