A move, a draw, delaying for now the minutes and hours
until no loner wanting or needing
paralyzed by this fear that binds the hands and tong
detract the passion from the faith of what is fabricated buy the foregone
you smile when I allude to what is lost and what was only a story
you rise and search for the voices whose galvanized words are
nails in the coffin, condemning you to your caste.
these days of separation burn what little aspiration remains
they soil the eyes of difference as they search
finding only the words and numbers that they have fabricated
happily overlooking the character under the iconic cover
Leave it scattered among the pebbles and stones
This terror is bought by faith and counterfeit words, money and oil
do you not hear the voices beneath you?
telling stories of the sun, tears, and sand
the vultures circle above what was once in need
fueled by the fumes of the ripe flesh and hope
now no longer needing or wanting, left a scarecrow
tinted brown and labeled fanatic
because of faith, by name you call God
with your iconic cover and sacrosanct book of hate
i know only of you from the stories of war
told by the frightened and broken
you’re accused amputation of the patriot spires
leaves you standing behind the lines separating the right
the wrong, pleasing the hate of ignorance
welcome to the land of freedom and liberty and oppression
