Phil Ips

A poem I wrote a late night. It had been a day with a lot of walking, and I felt pessimistic when I finally got home - but still optimistic.

Come play with the sewage
come play with the sink
Come create with the hammer
destroy with the ink
And when you had enough
you better start to think
About loving or about losing
When you finally decide
your armor will chink
And you'll find you a spoon
of blood in your drink

With fire or stone
you desecrate lands
Oily and running
the blood on your hands
Diamonds are sharpened
by the Devil's hot sands
The mirage he leaves in your faces
When he grows you a horn
you'll tie it with bands
And then you'll be
dying so fast

Ignoring the calls
the love of a child
The burial of truth
honor stands on trial
And when you walk away
We'll sing all the while
'Cause the fall is finally coming
The rain it is here 
it's filling the Nile!
And to us, you're gone
and dead, while we smile