Death of Neda Agha-Soltan

Silicon valley
Silicon people dance
Trance like beauty flowing
Electric stop signs flash

Old woman places stones
One after another
On the graves of the forgotten
To keep the carnivores from devouring their souls

Bowls overflowing with hope
Doped up in this cloud world
Falling with the rope tied tight
Around her freedoms throat

Neda’s tears of crimson
Leak from her pours
As saline excretions pour from the eyes of the sea
Neda doesn’t float anymore

I am a soldier for the few
My uniform isolates my humanity
Vanity in the face of my place
In this cloud world

Darkness encroaches on the weak
As people seek infotainment
Children executed for hormonal instinct
Drink while Neda’s body sinks through

The realm of the living
Her crimson contribution
Raising the red tide
Anger and outrage on the faces

For those who would be silent
March toward an eternal barrier
My uniform starched strong
Like the will of our demigod

People like cannon fodder
Enveloping me in humanities grasp
My body torn from this uniform
I become faceless in the sea

The moonlight guides us
Pulls the sea forward
On this march of salvation
Salivating for freedom

I can taste her sweet embrace
As I float in the sea
Neda’s memories illuminate the oil soaked sky
While uniforms attempt to contain the flow

Water now burning crimson lava
A thickening crust slows
As emotions flare then fade
While those who sacrificed and gave
Lay silent in the unmarked grave

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