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Wednesday, September 30, 2015

They Know
Im Bleeding To Death

They don’t respond.

They don’t respond.

And they don’t respond.

For forty years.

The murderers of Truth

The murderers of God

The murderers of all that is Holy

Are not required to respond.

Or to debate.

Or to answer any questions.

They have power, and wealth, and authority.

And they are above the Law.

Impervious to words

They are locked in a heartless, vicious, and murderous silence.

For they, with their cynical, self-righteous smirking, know that I am bleeding to death

And that all they have to do is wait, and watch

And gloat.


Collecting their money.

Just another few years, another few months

And I will be dead.

Then, no more words of Truth extracted under their tortures.

Then, no more condemnations of their heartlessness, their viciousness, and their witlessness.

Then, finally, they will be able to rejoice.

But not now.

Their knives

Collecting their money

Still have work to do:

The blood gushes in torrents down my body

Their knives wet with my blood.

As they stand there


Then passing their knives to the next generation of murderers

And the next.

An endless supply

Of murderers.

Collecting their money.

They are the ‘holy’ ones.


They are the ‘compassionate’ ones.




Talk of ‘Peace’ and ‘Love’ and ‘Dialogue’ and ‘Tolerance’

Their knives still lusting for the blood of anyone with Knowledge.

But I can feel it

Their knives cutting ever deeper into my flesh

That I am running out of blood.

And they will never cry.



(Previously published July 20, 2015):

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