House of Giants

Poetry by Chris Bunton

Through houses of Giants,
we crawl on our knees.

We slave for our feed,
and all of our need.

They have framed our life,
till the day we die

Through their house, we fly,
work, and drive.

Their bones corrupt us,
surround us, and stink.

Every word is no.
Every sign is stop.
Everything is wait.
I’m gonna escape.

I will find a way.
I will be free.

They rule it all,
and keep us down.

They devour our lives,
and those of our past.

They live in castles and dreams,
so they won’t hear our screams.

When will it end?
When will it change?

The alarm clock sounds,
it’s time for greed.

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Bio: Chris Bunton is a writer, poet and blogger from Southern Illinois. He has published in several magazines, and has written a poetry…