Commune 

I laboured but my tree does not have fruit
The branches bear reminder of the way
Despite the work I’ve done to firmly root
The odds are stacked against me every day
And if there is no fruit I do not eat
And when I go to market what to sell
My lords and masters live a life replete
Their heaven has foundation in my hell
Utopia where man could work and rest
And food would give him strength and peace for both
A land where everyman can have the best
My tree no longer stunted knowing growth
If heaven were on earth we’d surely see
That Eden could be run communally

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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