Words From Murdered Poets

Did we bow down, crushed, when told we would lose our heads
for uttering our few precious, fiery words?

No. We stood upright, put our backs to the wall, 
said our last words:

“Come toward us, swing those swords, impose the sentence:
we will hold you to your corrupt words. 

“Take our heads from us as we stand upright to face you.
We will not speak again. You deserve no more of our words.”

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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