Of Blind Cocks
Of blind cocks
that crow at dawn
Dyeing, drying on
the thorns of humanity
The Blood of non-creation
and criterion of a nation insane
Inhumane and decimates
to the red strains of Children’s games
Glory and praise the
ascensions of one
The sum of masculinities abortion
The burnt image
of the aftermath.
Go and see
the walls of None
The tribunal of dung
Crown the one-eye worms
Anointed in rotted empires
Furies scurry and bury the thoughts
Of lace and grace the masses of fame and shame
The brutal pyre of human’s creed,
the immune one
The dyeing,
drying of the horns of cruel black sons
The burn of dark hands
The blood of divinity
The nation
Is at war with profanity.
Sanity
What is humanity?
Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2021
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