The Inventor Of Slavery - Poem by Anthony Weir
Because all gods are now bred in gulags
wisdom is the slaughterhouse,
and knowledge is the scrambled
brains of screaming pigs.
gasping in the air of mindful cruelty
in which we all are illiberally hurled,
I fight for breath
to curse the hatefulness of being
human (all too human)
and want my lungs to stop
- for worse things than mere death
await me and the whole wide world.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You