with garbled tongues and mouths ablaze,
we walk this hallowed ground.
with angel's wings and demon's dreams,
trying to rhyme the holy sound.
into the depths of human need,
far past the touch of grasp.
the broken glass feel of the naked real,
that doesnt have to ask!
we forge our peace with weapons of war,
our gods are never satisfied.
swords converting, phallic spurting,
deciding who lives and who dies.
we drink the earth with maddened thirst,
and burn the pages of the book.
leaving smoking trails and personal hells,
for those who dare to look.
i cannot but speak, i cant go on,
the silence clutches at my breath.
to live this life in toil and strife,
to be forgotten in your death.
still glass images of the faces,
whose eyes burn but never turn.
whose hearts darkened by the angry blow,
sacred flesh that time discerns.
to be continued....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is written how it is from many angles.