Words are scrawled in the night
by the poets and punks alike
asking nothing for their craft
except to share in dawn’s new light

the lawless sound revolt’s place
by bold letters on the walls
each with a spell that must be cast
while meaning begs due regard

daylight is the false ally
making plain the hidden oaths
as the guardians of the old
resist the pleas made with paint

the war is waged from dawn to dusk
by the weak against the strong
evoking masses to their side
a legion hiding outside the walls

with only marks now weaponized
defacement fights as shadows fall
announcing what the masters fear
empowering those who must speak

scribbles stating naked truth
the rebels hold graffiti’s voice
asking little for their craft
except to change the universe.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180712.