There are some there, dripping coins of blood.
And here, pounds of flesh burn in the wrath of fiery swords
And youthful innocence drowning to grievous pits:
One thrown to forest, the other sunk down in dusty feet.
Here, love is stolen,
And mercy’s cry is not given.
Murdering is wisdom and prevention too.
What then is this evil we do?
Heathens, Tell me, don‘t you steal!
Cannibal, yes you. Why must you kill?
So your sickle is lynching and fire,
Your judgment is nakedness and tyre?
I saw a king in famine of knowledge;
He did allegiance to felony pledge.
Unmoved to pardon his fellow humans’ sons!
For his heart is woven with thorns!
meet the poet: Gabriel Gabbycapable
Photo: Galerie Bonheur
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.