Blog Archive

Wednesday 8 May 2013

Of Revolutions

I hate the quiet and the small, 
The gutless wonders of the world
Who rule in secret, silent
Cells of power, 
Praying 'gainst the justice hour
When streets will bleed
And cathedrals crash. 

The word from poor to poor
Will spread, a virus with
A voice of thunder, like
The brazen head of Magnus:
Let towns be ruined, 
The cities Hell!

Listen to the tolling bells
That strike the hours
To the coming doom
Which can but revive
This cursèd world that
Most do slave to serve. 

Mayhap all 'cept those up
In the tower, whose
Well-deserved fall shall
Mark the hour. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Translate

Followers