For Miss Alex.
For Miss Alex, and many others. . .
These are strange times.
There are many of us who are hurting, left wounded on this economic battlefield,
Crying out for comfort as dark clouds of economy sized arrows slice at our souls,
Volley after volley they descend upon us, their barbs laser guided and bar coded.
We are but crumbs of toast, swamped and pummelled by a huge political butter knife as it spreads terror over our lives.
There are many of us who are hurting, left wounded on this economic battlefield,
Crying out for comfort as dark clouds of economy sized arrows slice at our souls,
Volley after volley they descend upon us, their barbs laser guided and bar coded.
We are but crumbs of toast, swamped and pummelled by a huge political butter knife as it spreads terror over our lives.
As the rain fell on Glasgow, I paid my respects to those who went to Spain to fight Fascism, and to Dolores Ibárruri.
posted by Sans Pantaloons at 5:37 PM
3 Comments:
Thanks for that, Sans.
That was a great tribute to their memory, thank you.
Chris, thanks!
ChrisSD, thanks!
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