What age is this?
What time?
My eyes beg release from turgid lies
What barbarous land?
Had the scars not healed on such hands
That hold the sword again?
What of truth and men
Of women and love
Of kindness from within
Unbidden by the empty above?

In what age is this that stone is held
That a hand can throw with deaths intent
The same that earlier flexed
Bent across a mobile screen
Streaming purchased products
Revelling in images obscene
To join a crowd that crushes
Kills for fear and hate
while demanding respect
That laughs with ill and calls it good
To take life and on it place the hood
and say it is as it should be
and we
Hung by our manners in defense of Free
Criminals implied
Monitored, pre tried
All seen where once we owned ourselves
As we act creating Brand Hell…

What age is this?
What time?

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