they can tell you
about bodies
burning
in the streets
about
trash in gutters
with bits of
skin and
statues ripped down
it smells like barbecue
sounds like hell
feels like the heat of spent
shells
no time for shell shock.
in times like that
no chaos without peace,
no peace without chaos.
no reaching the heavens
without roots in hell
so
pressing pause
on domesticated slaughter
of the poor
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