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Declare yourself a pawn

by Jared Orlando

My ear gives way to the sound of these black suits marching
Tails in hand; dim darting eyes
Fleets of them; all wearing the same defeated face
The street is flooded with the chant and a lying lapel
As they all seek comfort away from the scorching sun
For that untrained greying god has left them
With only shards to build an empire
A book of how to implode the lands
And build them back in three days
And there is that tremor in this street
And hell if their heels cannot feel it
Following the man with a bomb in his hand
Destruction with a bow lying upon his chapped lips
These black suits of debris and desire
Know nothing else but to march. march. march on

05/30/2008

Posted on 05/30/2008
Copyright © 2025 Jared Orlando

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kimberly Bowen on 05/30/08 at 04:47 PM

"Following the man with a bomb in his hand Destruction with a bow lying upon his chapped lips These black suits of debris and desire Know nothing else but to march. march. march on" brilliant.

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