Descendants Of The Deceased

From the aggression lives an audible echo of silence
Tight knots that lock nothingness
Charming chants that trance the being into hysteria
A rush of strong hollow energy
We allowed the self to be educated into illiteracy
Trading heritage for a piece of pie on puppet strings
Of what use is the gong when the tympanum is gone?
When the predator sees but the prey can’t see
and the fight wears the coat of fright
Oh, how the descendants keep descending
The sharps that killed, and the blood that spilt, the fathers suffered
Raped with no shame were the mothers
Yet, the next door generation knits waste from pearls
Pyramids that sit on pure labour; and the chiselled Lalibela
Strength, which only succumbed to death
Feathers of the fathers that we shrivel to carry further
Fruits from the pain of the first that the next drain
The swords of the oppressors were worth the pierce
until the toddlers spilt the milk as the fathers left to drink death