I know they're under the eaves scheming

for a next move nothing left to chance. 

My torch reveals one taking the outside air at night

in a strung rocking chair,

a perfect design in its world of complexity. 

By day nothing is visible except threads

in corners, where futures are made. 

A sense of privilege holds me back from destroying them

allowing full rein over my dis...

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Bullets in the breach waiting waiting

a baby in the balance gestating gestating

who one day may take up arms

swept on by war's desperate alarms. 

Then the blood flows in the streets

and in the fields

When the men of God will come;

while there are bullets in the breach

men of God will come as a consequence

for without them where is the glory?

glory and mud do not ...

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