I am noise and thought,
I am not who I ought.
I am freedom,
I am fight,
I am the smallest glimpse of starlight,
In the deepest, darkest, stormy night.
Because of fear,
I am,
In spite of fear,
I thrive,
The death of hate and ignorance,
Is what keeps me alive.
I speak for the minority,
A voice for words feared spoken.
With ink and web,
My words are spread,
And your weak bullets are b...

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Thy pen; no mighty sword here preach
Where words, metallic, fall.
On blood-ink lines; stained city streets -
Oh time, thou horrors crawl.
Wrought freedom flits, it waxes, ebbs,
Whence censored bullets rain,
But fallow not among the dead
Doth liberty remain.
 

Copyright © Simon Austin 2015

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Art Attack.

Kalashnikovs spit deadly hate
Upon the streets of grey Paris.
An art attack, the deadly fate.
Je prie pour eux - Je suis Charlie.

A sketch of these disturbing times,
twelve martyrs die for liberty.
The clanging of Notre Dames chimes.
Je prie pour eux - Je suis Charlie.

Bullets of hate will not erase
the sable brush strokes of the free,
dripping red on these bloody days...

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