This is not your genocide
to write poems about
This is not your genocide
to write poems about
And secretly the Rulers shall take stock of their human merchandise declaring wars ... big ships shall hoist their flags, marching songs shall advance along the roads, balconies shall strew flowers on the Victor. Who shall live in the odor of corpses.
And secretly the Rulers shall take stock of their human merchandise declaring wars ... big ships shall hoist their flags, marching songs shall advance along the roads, balconies shall strew flowers on the Victor. Who shall live in the odor of corpses.
and imagines
the office overrun
by Circassian slavers.
They strip her naked.
and imagines
the office overrun
by Circassian slavers.
They strip her naked.
Who is this fiddler,
Who instead of bringing good cheer shocks and outrages us
Who does not see what we see nor cherish what we cherish,
Who on a happy holiday stands before us like a nightmare,
Traitor, assassin, destroyer of our national genius?
Who is this fiddler,
Who instead of bringing good cheer shocks and outrages us
Who does not see what we see nor cherish what we cherish,
Who on a happy holiday stands before us like a nightmare,
Traitor, assassin, destroyer of our national genius?
and the magic machine grinds on and on
spewing out mountains of whatnot
and we throw it all into the sea
as we have always done
and this will not end well
and the magic machine grinds on and on
spewing out mountains of whatnot
and we throw it all into the sea
as we have always done
and this will not end well
To know silence perfectly is to know music.
To know silence perfectly is to know music.
My friends are blackbirds and wires
in your hands. At your throat.
My friends.
My friends are blackbirds and wires
in your hands. At your throat.
My friends.
we would be strangers in the Capitol;
this is our country also, nowhere else;
and we shall not be outcast on the world.
we would be strangers in the Capitol;
this is our country also, nowhere else;
and we shall not be outcast on the world.