Bitter Harvest by Tyrone Vincent Banks Written Thursday, November 18, 2004


Mutilation

Decapitation

Humiliation


A crying nation

Unnerving justification for the defamation

Of that crying nation


Frustration

Elation

In the blood of the fallen there was a celebration

Pain that will cause further retaliation…


She was the salvation, but her deeds earned her a warm place in our hearts and in the ground…


Was she the same as the other they found?

Retribution?


That’s not the solution, these acts unspeakable amidst bitter confusion

The grand illusion

The wrong conclusion…appalled at the fact that we have earned inclusion

Into the ranks of the foul,

The unjust…

The evil ones who erected the 21st century pyramid upon the backs of their brothers

The watchful eye that will see all will betray you as we see what you hide


View yourself from inside

Are the just justified?

To play God and play with gods as they follow their path of redemption

Who earns an exemption?

From the swift sword and swift judgment that will lead to our extinction

That sword in his hand

One that he has no right to wield

To what power does he answer before more blood spilled?

Who determined the fate of the living or the ones that were killed?

Busy hands try to rebuild


More are kidnapped and how many more have their fates sealed?


The grim reaper will reap

The killers will kill

The justified will justify

The righteous will make right

The non-believers will believe

The punishers will be punished

The original sin is buried but not forgotten


We were born corrupt and our souls can be rotten

The curse of existence

The price for resistance

The cost that we pay as we offer assistance


The bullets fly overhead

As they bury the dead

They try to do what’s right but they still die in the night

What a horrific plight

To be given this sight

And words that don’t stop


Please stop…

I will not...


I have bitten the fruit and the knowledge spills out

The words leave the fruit as the juice leaves my mouth

A bitter harvest we reap

A cry out as we sleep

Lay your life on the line…

At home we’ll be fine


Line your body with death

Step forward and take that last breath

Your pieces will find their way into the reapers collection


At this point in the game there is no rejection

But try to claim that prize

The one you get when you die…the virgins and such


What you do is too much!


The blame does not fall far from the feet of the aggressor

The response will be from the subjects of the oppressor

We were given the tools with which to wage war

Without war what would such devices be used for?


Is there one solution that will enhance my resolution?

There’s no going back

When you act and attack

Wage war without facts

Act and they react


The reaper keeps busy and his collection is as such

The collectors of aluminum can never get enough

Turn in the body and retrieve the payment for the soul

Place the body in a container filled with new and old

Grind away the substance and the flattened body is pressed out

Refined and recycled

Renewed and reformed

Back into the fray after being reborn

Or maybe left in the street

Swept underfoot and away

Left to decompose, degenerate and decay

Pray for the reaper, is there anything left to collect?

Ask for the reaper, has he come by yet?

Or did he forget?


Human lives and human bodies devoid of essence…

A poet devoid of words…

A poem that has reached an end…or has it?

Impressum

Texte: ©2004 Tyrone Vincent Banks
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 23.12.2008

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Dedicated to God.