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I wrote my first poem at fifteen in
1964. What prompted me to write it was an incident I saw playing out on
my TV taking place in New York City. A ninety three year old woman had
been evicted from her apartment and while sitting on the steps outside
it surrounded by all her worldly possessions. Other people were coming
up and taking what they wanted. Having no regard for the human being
sitting there in tears and who now, had no home. Instead they were
adding their own brand of insult to injury. Pilfering through her few,
precious possessions, the pieces of her broken world, they ignored her
anguish, her pain and her great suffering as if she bore not one shred
of human decency! The last thing I saw was her trying to keep someone
from taking her birdcage with her bird screeching. I was horrified that
no one stopped to help her. That no one during those very obviously
tragic moments in her life could see her as a human being! And all I
could think was that Man's Inhumanity to Man was certainly our greatest
tragedy not only to man but to God. And so, I wrote this poem and added
it to a paper I was writing on the Civil War. Somehow it seemed to
belong there and to suit the topic!
What Then?
Speak of his innate
obsession with self
Speak of his failings, examine his
hurts.
In this world of war and anxiety
In the ultimate moment of
destruction February 23, 1964 By Lady LaMythica (Linda A. Copp)
The
Composition you are listening to is Diablast1b by ? I have been unable
to locate this artist but will keep trying to give him the attribution
he deserves! His midi was found at a popular MIDI site back in the day!
It disappeared and I could not find him or his work elsewhere but the
composition is beautiful! Graphics by Xoom Clipart Collection Web Empire 150,000 |
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