Blasphemy 4

Mark 13

There will come a time
when the words you scribble
will stop being hushed
by self-righteous censure

and will instead taste like
hard metal in your mouth
as if you had a tongue
forged of old shrapnel

and rhymes that shed
their beauty and what
makes them clever. But
that is the difference

Between a word that fills
the air, weaving its way
through the air, an airborne
sigh uttered upward

in ancient rhythms, and
a sword disguised as a word–
a bloody path etched toward
the end of history.

Those words will instead reveal
a day of nationless violence;
of a hammer wielded,
a holy book cast aside.

Do not be deceived, for there
is no birth in such words,
Only hearts that pump death as a lifeblood.
Stay awake, that they might not be your own.


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