Member Poem

as I sit with pen in hand
and sheet of parchment before me lay
what is the words that I might say
that might have worth to those who read

of in justice in social forms
or of sickness that rages the land
perhaps of poverty that crushes down
or of destruction in all its forms

of the few who protest in streets
mingled with those who riot and loot
of the many with apathy filled
what of the innocents protected not

and one of those who us would lead
their endless arguments among themselves
each proclaiming to better be
then the others who will lead us astray

are there words that I might say
words that might somehow be worth
to the few that know of me
and of these words might read

As I ponder in the night
of the words that might be
but of me I know them not
yet I will seek them with my might