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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Political · #1064635
anger frustration for human mind and broken spirit of action
Fixed up with all your help. Some things i left the same on purpose but thank you everyone for your input it was exactly how a review was suppose to be.

The charred remains of the human soul

don’t try this at home. your blood and bone. a figure sure and true.
money face between mirror images of now and then.
a time till ten, count down upon your head.
the choice of life to survive, a choice without reply.
naked in the sand sun burning untamed wounds.
the blue eyed disease,
creeping and seeping into the faces of those who came and those who stayed.
the warriors obligation. non complacent no choice just action.
you ignorant few.
they break you.
they make you into the strings of a puppet,
dripping and drabbing, lifting and sagging.
you say we are crazy, you say we have lost our minds ,
we live in a perfect nation its just hard times.
no one can stop me , many will try.
the voice of a voice is meant to fly.
a single jet that flies upon the ocean, a missile missing its scope. a tank with no gas.
a bomb with no fuse. a people with no god.
a horrid action that repeats,
history that beats, and repeats,
and beats till a disgrace upon our world is filled so far over the top.
the monkeys stop screeching, the waters stop flowing, the poet stops writing,
the cameras stop shooting.
the people stop thinking.
the people stop thinking
the people stop thinking
they stop thinking.
they try and fail
I cry,
you sail upon a single river with no direction just where the wind will blow.
I shout the way ,
you say " the world is going this way, let me stay on course"
I dribble and curse, shout out of burst,
of cannon rounds filled with napalm,
tear gas,
blast of shattered glass,
scrapped school budgets,
scared puppets,
your mothers shiny porcelain dolls,
the destroyed neighbors house ,
screams that turned to shouts,
the mothers baby tarred from flames of god.
too blind to see,
that a missiles aim is an aim that be a small untouched innocent being .
no chance to try, the world denied, or was it the will of my people ?
who sit and dribble all over their cracked faces.
while making the same mistakes.
no choice but this way .
I say forget your tamed ass one way street…
every decade or so
one way to go,
then switch to say we rebel,
the left to the right,
the right to the left.
a broken image with upside horizontal design,
no choice of mine.
with think tank contemplations,
professor documentation,
sworn testimonies,
top secret documents,
solid proof intelligence,
one dollar bill with the fore fathers imprintation.
condensation, absorbing ,discriminating,
not on one, not on a sect of people, but on all who dare live in this time.
in this world,
in this construct of mass movement will.
being taught how to obey,
play the doggy day,
I sit and stare.
the world is bare.
the minds of the few,
versus the mind or lack of the many.
were a dropping penny,
spinning down,
flipping around,
bet tossed tails but heads will come up,
the games rigged so you all just give up.
but I say to you,
Will you console the crying mothers,
the weeping fathers,
the broken wife,
the missing brother?
will you pay the doctors bill,
build a new house,
start a new school,
try out for the guard, national alarm ?
will you say out loud,
without crowd of followers,
will you break out the cobwebbed truth?
the liberty blood,
the naked cloth less Christ,
hanging on crosses, nailed to walls,
spear in hand,
hammer in toe.
broken faces will you try,
or will you let all die,
let all break,
let the worlds most ignorant race abort this blood and bone,
this earth and man,
this son of god,
this black and blue,
this flesh and blood,
this human being?

they the minority of control; race unknown.
© Copyright 2006 James Blood (jblood at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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