I may not see or hear of smell the smoke.
I may not feel the heat.
But there's a burning city nearby,
and it calls forth a large fleet
Of men empowered by a bright, white God
Who do not care for talking.
Whose only care is if passersby
Don't stop but keep on walking
They are the martyrs for a perverted justice
The criers of an alternative truth
They yell blasphemy of those who are different
Or those they deem raucous or uncouth
Yet, to those who are not discouraged
By their crimes and abomination alike
I say to you that today, this minute this hour
Is the time to fight, is the time to strike
Pick your swords of freedom
And polish the old shields of the New World
Look on with your comrades in wonder
As a ragged flag of liberty is unfurled
The battle will be hard won
Lives lost and treasure plundered,
But if not now than never will
The cry of the weary thunder
YOU ARE READING
A Poetry Collectors Poetry
PoetrySo basically this is just me writing poetry. Some will be political, some will be just random, and I might even just put in a poem by a favorite poet or something (If I do that I will say who wrote it and when). So yeah, if you life poetry hit this...
