Blasting through echoes of nonchalance that erupts the dancing clouds of fire
Converging frequencies charge into circus of freedom that permits the loudness of silence.
Hoods in white with spears of smeared liquid task the masterminds of lighted bulbs,
that plummet downward on brown and black fortresses in the daylight.
Heights unknown propel doctors of justice, as the examination halts the mightiness of wars
Skilled puppets in suits and fractured glasses read off scripted fare about the maniac with yellow hairs and snotty lips.
The suction of deliverables begins and ends with charted graphs that constantly avoid the tremors, unearthing the mystery of White soldiers who work in the daylight,
and into the night when the sky is brightest for the noise of doomed firecrackers that burst into the sound of silence.
They really do and if you dare to listen, you will hear the bulletin of death plans that will make colors merge into vibrant body parts that flicker when the grass obeys the wind.
Crusty skins of charred gold can breathe menacing lies when the parade of victory commences with mascots of governmental hitmen,
bathed in white and marching to the beat of slathered hearts.
What will it take to hear the wailing of warnings,
ringing with fierce commands that are ignored for the sake of copulation in questionable areas of the landscape.
There can’t be an escape when melancholic bells toll after the burnt ashes become spirits that haunt the land of the free and the fighters who want it white.
Silence is the avid killer, and when plotters finally evacuate the wrong ones towards the rehearsed village of damnation,
the blast will shut open the ears that stayed closed to the alarms, sending the senses roving for cover as wide open lids beam up to the rays of the sweating globe in the heavens.