God Is In The Pen

Black bags

Toe tag's

Infants molded into infantry
this city's dead
no pulse can be traced through sound
because these rocket launchers
have left the masses deaf

[immobile because silence has raptured us bound]

& the rhthym of the war drums
is all that is left

[That my eardrums can recollect]

your window has not seen the blood
the residue that resides outside the pane
that holds up the frame of my view.

That refines me to refrain myself
from expressing my views

you got it all fucked up
her story will never hit the corporate news
and so I use my words to paint her blues

but lately I've been hesitant

many disappear once they are accused
accusations never really obliged the guilty of resignation
positions of power dissect the intellect
in preparation for ARTificial insemination

marked for death
for embracing the depths
she disseminated their disinformation

at the cost of her life
she just didn't know it yet

War is not peace
but sometimes sacrifice is the only way
to cease the continuos pattern
of innocent lives that now cry in the afterlife
because life is short and now deceased

how can one cure the world from such a disease?

with a mouth full of blood
she released her tongue from the clench of her teeth
drowning the streets in revolutionary poetic screams

all result of such a state of emergence
yet demons still arise from the shadows
in intervention of rightful insurgence
in conversion of an evil convergence

this is how the prior became priority
how a vision of the past
is now a factor alas

for now she lies in one of those buried black bags
immortalized through her very demise
and the words rest in peace seem so irrelevant

of course the idea
from time to time
with relevance displayed itself as evident without the evidence

god is in the pen

but the apparel of the profit
cashes in the dividends
she felt it in her soul
but the whole of the law deemed her incomplete

since when has WomYn been given the manifestations of a prophet?

-Amen-