Agents Of Chaos Poem by Frank Bana

There is a moment of reprieve
A pause that you might call a ‘grace'
When you are reaching for a pen
Reaching for the sky as for a rhyme
Allowed by peace to draw your words
To paint your images with clouds
That form the new foreboding shape
Of the chaos we're confronted with
The peace that sits beside us as we write
Bound in plastic wire, blindfolded as our peace
At mercy of the violence of the
Agents of Chaos who roam the shining land
Claiming the gleaming highways of the summer sun
That carve their molten paths through the nation's heart
Their heavy guns, talkies and sirens screaming
Spewing gasoline into the atmosphere
To poison every newborn, every child, to fill her lungs
With their strands of contagion, doom their thoughts
And chain their tiny hands to bars
I hear them in their cries within me
Crying in the cage that they cannot break
Crying for mother and the death of dreams
That were this country's grand illusions
His Chaos Agents teach us, every form of violence
Insults to the mind, desecrated, sacred soul
No credit to their lesson, no homage to their Master
No thanks they sometimes stride forgetful
Leaving time to write, their easy negligence
That allows the music to spill forth, the art
On walls and marching in the street
The culture warriors confront the heavy armed
The cowardly behind his baton shield
Cringed behind his razor wall
His wall of lies, his haze of flies
Choking us to death today. But we are strong
In the end, as in the beginning, when it was said
Justice, Justice roll down like waters
This is the only, holy Word. The only verse we have
For to hold against these Agents
For the Ancients to protect and guide.