If the following poem seems a bit strange, it may be because it’s written in a format called Echo Verse. I’ve written two poems in this format and, although I’m not particularly fond of the format, I am passionate about the content.
Masses: We no longer want to hear of an earth that’s ill.
Messenger: A poison pill?
Masses: Why must you dredge up negativity and mud?
Messenger: I see blood.
Masses: Can’t you see we are content with our lot?
Messenger: Your blind spot!
Masses: What can be done to change reality’s demand?
Messenger: Take a stand!
Masses: Stop clearing up our daily happy haze.
Messenger: Your blank gaze?
Masses: How do you purpose such large reform?
Messenger: Don’t conform!
Masses: You’re mad to believe in the revolution of which you speak.
Messenger: Your love is weak.
Masses: Then, tell us, what will happen if we refuse?
Messenger: The sphere will lose.
