Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Friday, December 17, 2010

a note from the John Brown gallows

go ahead and take my bones,
wring my neck with a splintered rope
let my blood stain yr shameful hands
i will not be the first
and certainly will not be the last
to be a living sacrifice
for men who will never be saved.
i will not say a word
as appeasement to yr
illusioned state of slavery
i will not spit upon you from the gallows;
enough damnation is coming for you,
i have nothing and therefore
have nothing to lose, but
you, oh, hungry men, upon what will you feast
when yr slaves are untied, running wild
upon yr streets and burning down yr homes?

you are filthy.

you would likely eat yr children's
flesh at the sake of upholding
yr unbridled lust.

a passion runs deep through
the gaping wound of yr
a passion for war and captivity
of bought things, of bought people.

you hold up torches of braggadocio
to the pillars of honesty
screaming insolently:
though the entire empire is crumbling

no, i will not say a word
from the gallows, no word could be
spoken that would ever suffice,
but here, dearest forsaken country,
take this note and throw it
on the ash heap of history:
..the crimes of this guilty land
will never be purged except by blood..

but, America, my blood will not be enough
and yr blood will not be enough
there will be infinite dissipation of people
there will be boundless oppression on and on
never will you win, and though you have my blood
i hold a sacred victory that you will never reach
for even when you die the affliction of yr guilt
ridden life will haunt you, and while you are alive,
I, the innocent deceased will haunt you.

i will not say a word to provoke a killing spree
nor a word of hope to any of those who support me
i shall not curse nor look away from the gallows;
i will stare straight ahead-
solemn and stony as the markers
of yr own miserable futures
and pray that God will keep
my eyes closed until
yr cursed creation
has been carried out like my bones
to the outskirts of a century
and deep into the abysmal american
wound that from this moment on will
never be healed because you pick and scrape
and scab and pick again.
oh the blood, it must, after so many
curses,creations and bones
flood outward and purge yr haughty dominance
out like a disease.

1 comment:


intense. awesome. one of my favorites.