Poet's Corner

I know of an Unknown Place Called the Warrior's Corner Where they pave their path with the bodies of Street Soldiers The Invisible Resistance Quite easy to miss when one is standing right in front of it Alert the press! A movement has started Turn off the television if you're of the weak hearted On the playground in your childhood , no one was left unscathed And the ones that did still swing from the monkey bars Limb for a Limb They barter their souls in exchange For timeless child's play Limb from Limb On my every word they hang The cry for righteousness rings through the country shrill and free Shouted in the blood,tears,sweat,and broken dreams Of a Once Upon a Time imagination, that is nothing more than a memory A silent echo They are the ghosts of untold stories past The caspers of milk cartons F.M.I.A Forever Missing in Action Similar to the news who slides past the dead without traction Ignoring the spoiled dreams Like soiled sheets That gives the neighborhood aroma a tinge Of pissy defeat Their wings forever clipped Litter the pathless alleys in shards of broken butterfly wings That are as reflective and introspective as glass As you tread though the city's slow beating heart Stop And take a whiff and then a glance At the future Tomorrow seems far off when today will never end So the password to Pandora's box of countless eulogies is required to pass I commend you to join in For initiation, Stab your blade of ignorance into your veins Spill one drop each for the soldiers that've passed and feel no shame Spell out in blood on the cracked pavement the words Forever Wisdom Tattoo your promise on your chest with the silent murmurs Of those locked in their mind's prisons Those always stuck in their subconscious So their always Unconscious Of the Conscious decisions they make Or at least until it's...too late Fightless, Witless, Defeated body found swinging from a noose of lyrics Cause of death is unknown Just the shriek of forgiveness in a neighborhood where no one bothers to hear it The cause of Self Sacrifice is known Oh dear, Coroner Because I know Of an Unknown Place Called the Poet's Corner That which saves me from my darkest hours And lowest of lows Shields me against the harshest of blows Tucks me in safe and tight to the sweetest security I'll ever know So in return, I fling myself on poetry's whims And it's then That I realize That I am not just hips, movement, and thighs I am Scripture And not the kind that on the pages of the bible resides But the kind that out of love for us, Dripped in blood from Jesus's sides During his Resurrection, I looked into his eyes And witnessed the message inside It read, Continue So convulsing is the hand holding my pen I write, for understanding of our future sins