Graffiti Prayers Poem by nathan martin

iconoclastic, aortic valves..

toppling through stone nerves
seperate the steel brow, the cement tongue
and holy mother from her child.

yet still the public squares give birth,
doing a little more with the willing.

see the skinny ones wander.

all those holy incarnate youth who highlignt
the shadows at night with their dark hooded coats.

some have pockets filled with tin saviors,
some condoms and some ciggerett's.

shake, shake, spray and shake.

robotic graffiti filled fist poured out like liquid
prayers forgives a few of the more common spaces.

ugly bertha with her iron curtain veiled about
her spray painted in rich angelic colors refuses
to remain silent any longer.

unvielling her aged face, revelling the gray mortered
lines who crippeled so many.

ugly stomped out bertha crumbling naked into every public square,
cry's a little from her unsentimental paved skin.

all those sterile cinderblocks baptised and forgiven
with the rattle of a tin can.

tagged and made holy under the lamplights with shades of
citron and bright orange.