Battle Lines
Battle lines are drawn along these sun-drenched streets; The weapons so far are only shouting voices, cardboard signs held high and the certainty of righteousness Half a world away, bullets fly, and bombs ride the backs of doomed and righteous children sending messages of shattered bodies & lives; and blood-streaked children scream and weep in American living rooms On the streets of my city shimmering heat forecasts a brewing storm; a marble mansion sits in peace behind its stout black iron fence; through its windows, & on nearby rooftops, black-clad men with rifles vigilantly eye the roiling mob Battle lines are drawn along these sweltering streets faces, twisted & red with rage throw words of hate across fragile barricades and half a world away, death marches on, continuing with its routine daily business Written April 17th, 2002 © on Apr 17 2002 04:37 AM PST 10 • 0
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"Battle lines are drawn..."