Freedom, poetry, Politics, Revolution, Spain, Uncategorized

Black Mass

I sense no soul in this rabble

just fearful alchemy

a hum of devilish trouble

ghoulish ignonminy

’tis no people’s celebration

this fascist akelarre

just a rueful abnegation

of what we’re fighting for

and, lo,

a ghastly chill is in the air—

Activism, poetry, War

Failing Towards Right


If there is warfare or if there is peace
I’ll stand for the people forced on their knees
For profit, pleasure assaulted and beat

There’s nothing moral in shots to the head
In making sure those we hate are all dead
There’s nothing a gun screams that cannot be said

Words are the weapons that kill over time
Schemes planted find their fruition in crime
Horrors inspired by prayer books and rhymes

The truly evil can look quite benign
With faces that look like yours or like mine
Not what the devil would seem to design

Remember my friends that hate is a mirror
Reflecting our own pain and deepest fears
Charge sin to others and end up in arrears

Success may seem to be rooted in might
There is nothing wrong in failing towards right
Losing the battle but learning to fight