I know of an Unknown Place
Called the Warrior's Corner
Where they pave their path with the bodies of Street Soldiers
The Invisible Resistance
Quite easy to miss when one is standing right in front of it
Alert the press!
A movement has started
Turn off the television if you're of the weak hearted
On the playground in your childhood , no one was left unscathed
And the ones that did still swing from the monkey bars
Limb for a Limb
They barter their souls in exchange
For timeless child's play
Limb from Limb
On my every word they hang
The cry for righteousness rings through the country shrill and free
Shouted in the blood,tears,sweat,and broken dreams
Of a Once Upon a Time imagination, that is nothing more than a memory
A silent echo
They are the ghosts of untold stories past
The caspers of milk cartons
F.M.I.A
Forever Missing in Action
Similar to the news who slides past the dead without traction
Ignoring the spoiled dreams
Like soiled sheets
That gives the neighborhood aroma a tinge
Of pissy defeat
Their wings forever clipped
Litter the pathless alleys in shards of broken butterfly wings
That are as reflective and introspective as glass
As you tread though the city's slow beating heart
Stop
And take a whiff and then a glance
At the future
Tomorrow seems far off when today will never end
So the password to Pandora's box of countless eulogies is required to pass
I commend you to join in
For initiation,
Stab your blade of ignorance into your veins
Spill one drop each for the soldiers that've passed and feel no shame
Spell out in blood on the cracked pavement the words Forever Wisdom
Tattoo your promise on your chest with the silent murmurs
Of those locked in their mind's prisons
Those always stuck in their subconscious
So their always Unconscious
Of the Conscious decisions they make
Or at least until it's...too late
Fightless, Witless, Defeated body found swinging from a noose of lyrics
Cause of death is unknown
Just the shriek of forgiveness in a neighborhood where no one bothers to hear it
The cause of Self Sacrifice is known
Oh dear, Coroner
Because I know
Of an Unknown Place
Called the Poet's Corner
That which saves me from my darkest hours
And lowest of lows
Shields me against the harshest of blows
Tucks me in safe and tight to the sweetest security I'll ever know
So in return, I fling myself on poetry's whims
And it's then
That I realize
That I am not just hips, movement, and thighs
I am Scripture
And not the kind that on the pages of the bible resides
But the kind that out of love for us,
Dripped in blood from Jesus's sides
During his Resurrection,
I looked into his eyes
And witnessed the message inside
It read,
Continue
So convulsing is the hand holding my pen
I write,
for understanding of our future sins