Broken Revolution

April 25, 2011
Between the edges of a broken society,
Hangs an open ledge of Misinterpreted passengers
Where the folly of fools overthrow the genius.
The incompetent prevail
And serves a starving feminist patriarchy on a platter.
Where love is reduced to gender
And birth refuses to make good company,
Where color is a fallen choir
And the sect bore our ignorance,
But when can we execute the bankrupt paradox?
While the Artist of the age sketches an outside dream,
The creed catches it’s latest iconoclast.
Habitual ecology built for a revolution.

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