Trial by BigotryBlood beads crowd the broken brow. The Lord collapses, pain crushes. As night’s sentinel sits on the city, solidified silence imprisons the Sovereign. Solitude, hate’s attack on Love. Emptiness fills the Filler of all The Lover of Souls weeps alone. In blackest of nights He sits surrounded by grass, gnats his only solace.Trial by Bigotry
Love sits, waiting for hate. Blasphemous bigots buy betrayal. A slave price buys the King. Judas approaches, his face lit by Hell Fire from torch’s glow. Life’s murderer looms nearer. Grass faints under his feet. Snakes, sc
SkatingGrinding the gutters andSkating
eating air from the sewer caps
the bike shakes and shudders.
Skating slaloms of cars and cords
the music blares, binding blindness and
muting mindless mush.
The hill rises and rocks,
a quick step and I’ll fly. The music stops.
Peace pursues me
and the angry ground
gives gifts to my groaning mind. The bike falls from under me, then catches me like a
father tossing his son.
Pop MusicThe amps stop and silence slides in sheets,Pop Music
the silken sound warms feet like a sock. Fans, captured by the band, are reduced to warm meat.
Pop culture swells, oozes money, and dies, the sweet
green sweat is all that remains. Parents reel in shock
as the amps stop and silence slides in sheets.
Today flesh is pressed to pain, but bands will meet
their end, will wake up in a gutter drunk and popular as a rock. But, for now they capture Fans, reduce them to warm meat.
Fans rush the stage and even the old get to
RhymeSomeone there is that hates a rhyme,Rhyme
the thought of rhymes, above with love
or life with strife, is vomit on paper.
Life with strife is like a horse, it’s
strong and stately. Step in fields. Step in piled pooh. Beauty dies.
Love and above grate ears,
leave them bloodier than Gettysburg.
Someone there is that hates a rhythm…
I would be that someone.
--
Hate
Love
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