My fascination for chemtrails abounds.
Silver planes draw grids across the sky
Daffodils bow gently to greet the breeze
Blue light bathes the countryside
A place I wish to be
Simple days that pass like ships
and all the people that traveled
Woven in spirit - a long memory
to die and then unravel
One surviving child came home
with truths that could be told
"The Freedom Generation is gone," she said,
"and history was sold
to puppets on the t.v. news."
They talk and people listen
The silver planes burst into flames
and vapor trails glisten
in shades of blue and black and red.
This war shall not be won
The Cloud Parade in masquerade
the journey now is done.
With thorny rose and soulless shoes
she came with the Northern Lights
and disappeared into the mirror
in the dead of the moonless night.
Listen now to the trickling sound -
the vapor trail's poisoned stream.
Silver planes cannot be found
Daffodils die on the ground
A wicked wild dream.