Blood, Innocent Blood

I want to envision,

what man is he?

He delights in the spilling of blood, Blood of innocents,

Child woman, man,

spilling blood on thus innocent earth.

Crowned with a turban of violence.

Robed with the long white robe of arrogance. Indeed not with purity.

Overgrown beards not of age,

But the wisdom of foolishness.

Quick to judge, on what precedence?

You want to propagate, What? I don’t know If the earth is yours, Killing will be your delight. Unto your servants, most kills For your soul,

if any long for the test of such.

Innocent, he will not be,

even Unto thy Lord sake, he kills Innocense in the innocent blood, Shall cry unto thy Lord sake, it was spilled. The earth dented shall not forgive.

This poem was previously shared in the nairland.com by Ibrahim John