The blood on the blade The bullet, the bomb The bank and the ballot The book of Islam Is my common man struggle My herbicide’s noose
By Michael Brandon Marchese2 years ago in Poets
Rainy seasons never end Just render me a sodden mess Downtrodden in unrest distress Yet sleepy and somnambulant Have bent me to their will’s intent
Cold settles down in the basement Tornadoes of darkness engulfing the room The black magic tricks have revealed all my secrets
Vaporized Nuclear skies Dehumanized Before your eyes Let shadows stain Your throne of lies And downfall reigns
All weapons of the fates you've sealed Are no match for this pen I wield The power to articulate Ticking rhyme bombs
Unheeded the warning To not take to leading An empire fleeting Succeeded in meeting A global trade quota In breeding consumers
I pose as this person by day Who admits To the others, his brothers No god he submits To more regal in splendor More real in its form
The ramshackle palisade walls Still suggest There are some on the outside Still living with less To be landless, condemned
Don’t do it For photo ops Drops in the ocean Of countries landlocked In a box Of emotionless No self-promotion
I will bathe you in rivers of blood 'Till you see There is no revolution Without some of me Not a page in this history book
It's like being reborn As the parts of you die That you never needed To see the whole truth In a radiant sky It's a breath of fresh air
You always bring me down To earth Just when it seems I’ve bested you You ground me in reality As soon as I’m convinced
