I might kill you all and not even know it
Strangling the anger out of life
and leaving myself a blood-drenched poet
Resurrect death’s bliss and harmony
And propane the embers inside
With the passion of the sun - I stole it
I stole the breathing lungs, capacitated
By your scarred ribcage and chest
And ripped your angelic wings into dust
Razor blades engraved an emblem for me
To remember the misery
You endured...when this dull blade met your rust
I’m two steps ahead of the death penalty
All my energy preserved when
Your throat will engulf steel when I thrust
Even the heavens crumble to oblivion
Once I speak blasphemy for you
There is no God that I bow to in need or peace
I fold Biblical scriptures into origami
And exhale cancerous oxygen
That speech is the sickle for the hate I reap
I breed spawned demons from carcass debris
That sweep diabolic over your home
For this poem is the crop of dates I will seed
I have to cope with hope when tomorrow is promised
Because everything is nothing
If my two broken fists and motives are godless
I might kill you all and not even know it.
Lynch the future with a slipknot of your hair
Left as a symbol for dead youth
Corner the white rabbit into the clasp of my snare
Smear the internals of the Lord’s grave lamb
Goddamn his sacred love for all
Reverred internals of this poem broaden my care
To be inclined for these mandibles of Satan’s grasp
And ringe each carrier pidgeon
Into worm infested, germ infected message for the Gods
Stretching the wretching of every emotion
Crop cannabis in the garden of eden
Smoke away the daybreak in grey sirius of no cause
Castrate Malcomb’s black, silk cat for the future
Vicosectomize the victimised
And leave those nine lives lost and nutured
Harvesting the restraints of discrete Christians
Exchange the remains of false idols
For the title of imperial gemini and faded pewter
Brittle the liberty that is fatigue in memory
America is Babylon’s child
Harps of yesterday are replaced by war machines
And the threshold of humanity held tight
Restricted from access of the truth
In a gold, heart locket with pictures of malign
We have to cope with hope when tomorrow is promised
Because everything is nothing
If yesterday’s peace and our nation is godless
It might kill you all and not even know it.