Whisper Of Love
© Surazeus
2016 06 15
Ten thousand bullets flashing at our heads
in buzzing swarm of aggressive contempt
splatter tears of paint on white walls of church
so I shield ten million people with palms
of my hands, willing those bullets to drop,
but special effects in movies are fake,
and I cannot transform those eyes of death
into butterflies who whisper of love.
I run nowhere fast as I can inhale
spirit of hope to prevent blast of death,
but my feet sink into insouciant sands,
and I see everywhere in distant halls
from sea to shining sea of cracking lands
people falling in hail of bullets, souls
dissipating as smoke from factories
into butterflies who whisper of love.
They gather in school to learn about truth,
they gather in church to sing about faith,
they gather in theaters to watch plays,
and they gather at work to make new things,
but blind men who shout lies, and preach vile laws
to control how people live, clutch cold guns
and destroy their bodies, shooting them all
into butterflies who whisper of love.
We clutch each other in darkness of night,
bodies merging in pleasure of despair,
and bodies of children leap from our hearts
to form gangs who fight for their right to live,
generations of people who perform
ancient drama of struggle for control,
and one by one in game of death we morph
into butterflies who whisper of love.
We wander on about our daily lives,
lost in somewhere city through maze of eyes,
directing our own plays in clash of wills
over whose view of our weird world is real,
then from the crowd he stands and aims his gun
spitting bullets of hate to force his truth,
but his rage vanishes at flash of death
into butterflies who whisper of love.
When monster of death from abyss of fear
rises on wings of rage and clamps our minds
with jaws of hate, will we pray to dead God,
or fight with our hands to protect the lives
of people we love who unite to play
game of life, dancing around fire of truth,
and leap on wings of laughter to transform
into butterflies who whisper of love.
© Surazeus
2016 06 15
Ten thousand bullets flashing at our heads
in buzzing swarm of aggressive contempt
splatter tears of paint on white walls of church
so I shield ten million people with palms
of my hands, willing those bullets to drop,
but special effects in movies are fake,
and I cannot transform those eyes of death
into butterflies who whisper of love.
I run nowhere fast as I can inhale
spirit of hope to prevent blast of death,
but my feet sink into insouciant sands,
and I see everywhere in distant halls
from sea to shining sea of cracking lands
people falling in hail of bullets, souls
dissipating as smoke from factories
into butterflies who whisper of love.
They gather in school to learn about truth,
they gather in church to sing about faith,
they gather in theaters to watch plays,
and they gather at work to make new things,
but blind men who shout lies, and preach vile laws
to control how people live, clutch cold guns
and destroy their bodies, shooting them all
into butterflies who whisper of love.
We clutch each other in darkness of night,
bodies merging in pleasure of despair,
and bodies of children leap from our hearts
to form gangs who fight for their right to live,
generations of people who perform
ancient drama of struggle for control,
and one by one in game of death we morph
into butterflies who whisper of love.
We wander on about our daily lives,
lost in somewhere city through maze of eyes,
directing our own plays in clash of wills
over whose view of our weird world is real,
then from the crowd he stands and aims his gun
spitting bullets of hate to force his truth,
but his rage vanishes at flash of death
into butterflies who whisper of love.
When monster of death from abyss of fear
rises on wings of rage and clamps our minds
with jaws of hate, will we pray to dead God,
or fight with our hands to protect the lives
of people we love who unite to play
game of life, dancing around fire of truth,
and leap on wings of laughter to transform
into butterflies who whisper of love.
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