the riot club, a poem

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Processed with VSCO with c7 preset

the riot club.

“The tear stained rebels are wreaking havoc again!”

“The tear stained rebels are screaming to a shadow of a man in the sky again!”

“The tear stained rebels are shoving their bread and wine down our throats again!”


The headlines may blaze ire

but our souls are forest fire,

The headlines may scream

but our silence will not be turned to tasteful violence.


Our flames will not ignite the fate of children

wearing necklaces of rope in their own closets,

Our quiet will rise in chants not just as battle cries

but for the shattering of a farce prize.


For we are soldiers bandaged in our own beliefs,

with bandaids over bullet holes

of our own fleshly reliefs.

We are a banner of centuries born,

of a crimson crown worn.


We are open wounds designed to be destroyed,

to be refashioned not from dust but of star rust,

we bear crosses on our backs

through alleyways and splattered subways.


We take poetry to the street fights

where our tongues are blazing guns smoking in the headlights,

we’re stumbling home on a narrow path paved in forgotten good intentions,

but there’s a light in the concrete,

a fragment of the gold we’re wandering towards.


We fabricate a promise land of sunken suburbs

in the shallow end of a polluted rainbow,

we drink milk of mercies gifted

and taste the honey of a future lifted.  


We are a flame flickering in the storm,

in the center of a home,

the water dripping midst the drought.


We are prisoners reaching promise,

Soldiers coming home.


{ -soli Deo gloria }

sky 2

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