POEM 224: COWARDICE SAVES LIFE
hi
what if I tell you the brave is unwise
and he that hastens to war lasts but a while,
would you pick up stones and fell me down
like they did my namesake?
I'll tell you his story
he walked into their domain and told them their tales
in a narrative not sweet to the ears
and when he was done, for final notes,
he pointed at Golgotha and screamed
"y'all are murderers!"
blasphemy!
Kill him!!
Urgh!!!
apart went priestly robes
preceded by a rain of stones
and brother Steve, brought to his knees,
prayed God count not their sins
but
and he that hastens to war lasts but a while,
would you pick up stones and fell me down
like they did my namesake?
I'll tell you his story
he walked into their domain and told them their tales
in a narrative not sweet to the ears
and when he was done, for final notes,
he pointed at Golgotha and screamed
"y'all are murderers!"
blasphemy!
Kill him!!
Urgh!!!
apart went priestly robes
preceded by a rain of stones
and brother Steve, brought to his knees,
prayed God count not their sins
but
what if I tell you that Steve behaved not wisely?
what if I tell you that cowardice
could save you from a hail of stones?
what if I tell you he would've lived to wrinkles
had he sprint to Egypt like his baby master
now
before you raise your dusty brows
and reach for the stones
look beyond the religious undertone
that bear my poem up your bloated heads
hush now, I pray thee, like the weakling,
and make your scribbles scream
on the rooftops of their heart
encode their evil deeds in a satire
and make them laugh along to Sheol
wrap words in beautiful kegs of vinegar
and make em drunk in their filth
and none shall glace at your post
nor point a finger at your door
when the law finds the nail's head
and hammer down with no restrain
okay,
what if I tell you the brave is unwise
and he that hastens to war lasts but a while,
would you pick up stones and fell me down
like they did my namesake?
you're a coward —
if you take up stones
I'm sorry, but
what if I tell you that cowardice
could save you from a hail of stones?
what if I tell you he would've lived to wrinkles
had he sprint to Egypt like his baby master
now
before you raise your dusty brows
and reach for the stones
look beyond the religious undertone
that bear my poem up your bloated heads
hush now, I pray thee, like the weakling,
and make your scribbles scream
on the rooftops of their heart
encode their evil deeds in a satire
and make them laugh along to Sheol
wrap words in beautiful kegs of vinegar
and make em drunk in their filth
and none shall glace at your post
nor point a finger at your door
when the law finds the nail's head
and hammer down with no restrain
okay,
what if I tell you the brave is unwise
and he that hastens to war lasts but a while,
would you pick up stones and fell me down
like they did my namesake?
you're a coward —
if you take up stones
I'm sorry, but
you're a good coward —
if you write them off
#365DaysOfPoetry
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