Whispered

They whisper revolution
like sparks whispering to grass
almost afraid to ignite,
yet spurred by an incurable urge.
But it has
Ignited.

Bodies are lobbed burning,
mutilated,
twisted beyond recognition,
cascading from rooftops
in their final macabre act.
We scream and we weep,
hiding in cellars like
pack rats
as the men march
in their calamities
(custom tailored
in the bloody fashion of the day)
Their oiled guns screech murder
Eyes yelling rage
hearts burning in hate
And their boots rise
rise
rise rise
and come crashing down
rattling the earth and shattering
crushing
destroying her bones.
                                                           walls and
Sending the flames                 the                         down
licking                          up                                                innocent throats.

And they don’t care.
They only kill, they only hate
Only murder in cold blood
And mutilate
And destroy
And burn burn burn burn
Like their own selves in
Lucifer’s deepest pits.
They hate they hate
they destroy and rape
and pillage and steal

and when their gone the
wind carries back their whispers

revolution. revolution.