The Guerrilla Poet (parts 1 & 2)

I am an angry freedom fighter
who’s abandoned all his swords
I am a poet trouble maker
who believes that with these words
I can write the key to free the chained
empower all the poor
I can speak so clear I’ll stop the world
and rewrite every war

I write my words for children
who are born but never live
I speak for those whose families die
yet have no time to grieve
But from this lofty vantage point
I see no childs of war
I see in you what I feel in me
and no more can ignore

I don’t know what to do
I don’t know what to do

I’ve never held a gun
I have no thirst to kill
So I write a poem every day
in hope that it will fill
the empty hole of being me
in a world so full of fear
and teach me all that I can be
in the time that I have here

I am a small finger
in a very big hole

And even though I don’t know what to do
I write
And even though I don’t know what to say
I speak
And every day I go as deep as I can
to what lies inside
shine a light in every corner
where the rarest diamonds hide
And with my words my voice my self
I never back away
I fix my eyes upon their pain
and find the words to say
To let them know
that even though
my worthless words are cheap
I will write a million more
than all the bullets in their guns
And I will led an army
to the places where they die
And I will stand
And speak
And cry

I hope
I hope
I hope
That this will be
And when I stand in that field
and open my mouth
I hope you will be with me

 

grey-line

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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