suffer the cadres their blunt blades,
magazines and machine guns.
a revolution needs the drum
of leathered feet and loaded hands.
pawns are sacrificed – token lives
for queens and generals,
bishop romeros, che gueveras.
but every worlds’ axiom’s upended
when an acme poet’s zenith’s
checked by bleating bleeding arms.
for though his movement’s small
as axis shrapnel of a tongue,
he charts the unseen outcome
of the struggle’s blind resistance
from his exiled, multi-mirrored throne.
by Chris Nelles