segunda-feira, 25 de janeiro de 2016

Looking down from the visor

Black shiny armor
Bullet proof shields
convinced brains
in hot skulls
under riot helmets

Truncheons move to the march
Uniforms dull them into
A violent sleep awake
A soul willing to destroy

Each man is handed a gun
each gun loaded
each trigger pulled until
blood on the road

Protestors trampled
screams pushed out of them
like blood out of them
like taxes out of them

Just bodies waiting for the hired gun
The stubborn despot
infecting helmet fulls of youth
infecting uniform wearers

Just looking down on those banner holders
Those eyes so uncaring
soup carcass of authority
repressing the people ruthlessly

Looking out of that protective visor
banging the truncheon on his shield

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