The Humble Rock Dove

I just shattered all I was in,
There is a cure in a steely, thin ray,
That could sharply rend you blind,
Made of the golden blood of the sky.

You may bask in your beaten body,
We shall dance when you rise to the grave,
That you made when you enslaved yourself,
Those feelings you shouldn’t have gave.

As you say, blithe heads are shaking,
Feel it you fool, you are too,
Feel the beating of the shaking trance,
Into your body, pregnant with sanity!

The miracle that you are you, not me!
Crass, neglected filth.
Hate the type of nothing,
That you inhabit in history.

Countless billions wail in agony,
Whistle holes for mouths,
Brazen bodies stretching through centuries.

And I see this in the eye of men,
Who want a perfect thing.

14/05/2021