Hear, hear
Generations of the new and old--
There is a noose around my neck
and the planks wobble beneath
my feet.
Hear, hear, my fellow peers,
the sails of ships have been torn
by storms from East to West
As though like a tyrant,
beats upon our will
Igniting a fiery wall.

Hear me speak young ones,
Voices are too timid among the havoc
under a raging beast that snarls
At children shaking free.
My pen lies broken beneath the pool,
Its ink swirls like dark mists
as of someone who died terribly
In the final thrash for life.

I hear a crack in liberty-
Stone-minded principals are thrown
full-force into our rebellious nature
to subdue,
to confine,
within the small multitude of their own
fading mind.
As if taking and drinking from the young
may cease their age-old ways.
Nay, the sun collides with time
Always has and always will-

I hear my own blood leaking,
a denture within the iron gates,
Pouring through the hole
till the gate collapses
under the weight
of a million bodies.