Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Here comes the sun
They line the streets, with large posters
of butchered children, bloody half formed
fetuses, and chant
Their voices tongue my ear
"Hell is lined with baby killers"
"What if God aborted you!"
They seek no understanding, just punch
and punch until you disgorge
Every street corner steams with my vomit,
a mile long river roils at their feet
Free to speak, free to assemble
I flip them off through the open car window
Their god of Hate is impotent,
in my humble opinion
And in this realise how much
we both still have to learn of love.
Here comes the sun.
Written for Imperfect Prose and Poetry Jam.
Photograph courtesy of Ainsley Allmark.