do not run through the night,
do not babble with tongues.
for we are fire!
and we are the darkness!
and the language we speak,
is not bound by words!
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apocalypse, and good bourbon.
shovels digging graves by themselves…deaths without purpose, liveswithout purpose….the cash register rings,someone else is evicted,another factory shut down!the stench of oppressionis almost unbearable….fresh manured fields of lies,pull the strings of the puppet,make him dance….(you cant see them,cant touch them,they’re insulated, shut offfrom the sounds of hungerand naked hearts beating!)and down the street an old mandies…
the facts that we’ve allowed
famine struck countries tostarve to death…that the countries we dobusiness with imprison theirown people for speaking outfor justice…that we send our young menoff to fight unholy wars, andthen bring them home to nojobs and no homes…that we dont teach our own childrenrespect….that our system of justice isbought and sold…that we still judge human beingsby skin…
we who grieve are the children of journey,
our hearts are bruised, our backs are bent,our feet determined and weary.we who search the darkness to know the light,who are the beat and hunger of human existence.who cannot separate the suffering of those in need,who know that walls are bridges not crossed.we who stink of loss and sweat pure sin,who enter the temples of…
we who would liberate,
hungry cry of freedom.must feel the homelessedge of despair,must taste the colorsof skin touching skin.must bear the blow of injustice,wear the chains of the enslaved.must walk inside the sorrowthat has no name or face.must see what lies beneath prayer,must wear the shoes of the oppressed.must stand alone in the darkest night,and set our selves aflame,to…
rain falling…
tis blackberry winter…the earth groans, trembles,and shakes.birdsong and coffee,a warm place on the sheets.coat on the hook, shoes on the floor,but the body is gone.now its bad news, hate news,gunfire and heavy fog.night and day, black and white,the footprints all look the same.the tin roof whispers in rhymeto the cobwebs and shadows.the tree that fell…
i dreamed…
rusted, still sharp…waiting, waitingfor the hands that till;at peace in the knowing,my destiny, my path!a simple toolin the garden of life!