These Yet To Be United States
Tremors of your network cause kings to disappear.
Your open mouth in angermakes nations bow in fear.
Your bombs can change the seasons, obliterate the spring.
What more do you long for ? Why are you suffering ?
You control the human lives in Rome and Timbuktu.
Lonely nomads wandering owe Telstar to you.
Seas shift at your bidding, your mushrooms fill the sky.
Why are you unhappy ? Why do your children cry ?
They kneel alone in terror with dread in every glance.
Their nights ["rights" ? - Schrift nicht lesbar] are threatened daily
by a grim inheritance.
You dwell in whitened castles with deep and poisoned moats
and cannot hear the curses which fill your children's throats.
by Maya Angelou
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