by divine-design

Wind, Flesh and Bones…are you listening.

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What if i told you

The world is on fire?

Would you hear me?

There are mockingbirds

That drink the blood

Of heroes slain in battle.

Small hungry children

Wear bells on their feet.

While activists sleep in graves

Long prepared by the machine.

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Young brown eyed girls stolen by night,

The price of oil drinks the news.

A knock on the door,

And the curtain falls.

The old mill building

Burns to the ground.

Corn fields sprayed,

And libraries closed.

Young lovers take the blade,

And the moon by force.

The old man’s body

Rots on urine stained sheets,

While Jesus waits in line at the mission.

Seed-33

There are no gods,

only conquerers,

And the conquered.

Computers ration bread and thought.

The honest man takes the gun,

For a loaf and a cord of firewood.

While prisons become the cities of doubt,

And demons wear frocks and crosses.

Only the sound of the train,

And the cry of the bucket spilled.

As the mine collapses,

And the government fails.

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Revolution,

nay,

something more….

The tears of the mother,

The father’s bloodstained hands.

As wolves gather in prayer

By nuclear rivers,

And the tribes of men build nests

In bare limbed trees.

heart-on-fire

Hark!

The hand calls forth,

And a million unnamed souls answer…

The footmarch of infinity,

The body count of dawn!

The world on fire,

Wind, flesh, and bones!

 

Eric

BLOG 21:12_n

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