Del “Abe” Jones
A few acres of heartache
Of, the most sacred ground
But, all “they” see is money
The most valuable, around.
We all know, who will win
It’s “them”, with all the means
It won’t be the souls, that cry
From, those most horrific scenes.
And if “they” build, buildings
Each window, will show
The reflections of a life
Someone, will never know.
There will be, some peeking out
And, looking to the sky
To see the crash that took them
And ask the question, “Why?”
There will be, some looking down
And, trying to find release
Amongst the structures that “they” build
But, there will be no peace.
They were killed in an attempt
To hurt, the almighty dollar
Now, “they” want to put the greed
Right back, into that “holler”.
The most expensive land on Earth
With some(?) dollars, for each “BEING”
But, more profits for “the few”
Is all we will, be seeing.
That hallowed ground is for the rich
To make, “their” profits soar
As if “they” didn’t have enough
All “they” want, is more.
Even, sixteen acres won’t replace
A small part, of the pain
Of, those lost souls, innocent
We’ll, never see again.
©Copyright September 3, 2002 by Del “Abe” Jones