Poetry

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Will i visit the deep wher the fishe's don't weep,do they ever find sleep;
alert though they be,there's an adversary,whatever their size too swim
is their prize,to live under some rock;and try not to get caught,deep
water's your'e slot,born in the depth where an ocean's not slept,away
from the sea's on GOD'S EARTH we have pleas;the skies give us the
weather,its fair or its better;when skies are blue it looks like its new,
or if it is gray,thank GOD wer'e alive then to-day,must praise Mother
Earth GOD gave it its birtth,nice and round are we nowfed and
found;so many under some tyrant's folly,now occupied with a lot
of false pride,common sense still denied left untried.
Joe.

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