Raining where the ark will lead ‘em with payment for the arts of free men leading to a broken war,
Take him to the arboretum and lay him where the hearts can see him bleeding on the ocean floor,
Towns burn in piles and then blessed be the praise to the words from the gun,
Frowns turn to smiles for when Death sees my face and he turns then to run,
A new song of elation pausing in the crook of beats,
The oolong of creation wafting on the sugar beets.
Bless the lonely breeze whether anyone is left behind the hurdle of a dead soul,
Rest in poetry, Chester Bennington, and let’s remind the world of potential,
I stand and plea for my memories when skies drop and walk around,
I plant a tree for my enemies and try not to chop it down,
Freedoms in the arms of liquor, wake alone and often stiff,
Lead them to the warmth of winter, jagged bones as walking sticks.
Vindication of a mad king or visitation from a maddened queen?
Inspiration is a sapling and inclination is the acid rain,
Preaching to their mothers for an Eden that had suffered when the paint wouldn’t blot,
Leaking from the gutters like they’re bleeding for their brothers and the rain doesn’t stop,
Cross the pond with bated breath like father swans will chase us next to lay the strong with soldiers killed,
Walk along the jagged cliffs and talk of songs and painter sticks with aprons on for overkill.
Pleas to the kings like cocks in the wrong orgy,
Breathe if you breathe and walk if you walk for me,
Poach birds, casting honor to the bay if weary like we’re mountaineers,
Growth spurts lasting longer than a day and nearly for a thousand years,
Clutch the rose and feed it with a taste of mochi curds,
Love to those that need it in place of holy verse,
Bait them in the park to eat them, tasting of a garçon vegan mixing shots with hollandaise,
Take you to the arboretum blazing with the hearts of freedom kicking rocks to walk away.