The true poet is a revolutionary,
And the only poetry that lives,
Is the poetry of war.
It should be the kiss of a fist,
In the smug face of authority,
A petrol bomb cast into the palaces of apathy,
That cleanses with its fire,
The pig stys of politicians.
It should never be complicit,
It must seek to destroy to create,
And each line lead to a little death,
That is the birth of a new beginning.
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