Electric Amistad

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I’m not the best poet in the world, but I’ll try this one until such time that I can spare a good amount for time for actual ranting. – Marocharim

Bound, to cells in unmoving ships
For endless rows and columns, the prisoners face nothing but a wall
They peer at each one’s blank and bleary eyes from across the opaque barrier
As the guards and keepers march from the parapets to the aisle
As each prisoner dressed to the nines, from head to foot in style
Yet chained to the floor in wire; waiting for the answer
To some futile attempt at the siren wails, and the gods from the heavens call
To them bound, in cells in towering ships.

Journeys not across space, but along time
For endless days and nights, the prisoners bound for the short haul
With their heads and torsos and hands criscrossed with machines
As the knights from above pay no attention to the serfdom below deck
As the serfs and tenants silent breaking their minds and bodies for the check
Still chained to the floor in wire; watched from the bows, sterns, and latrines
The cells full, noisy, and busy… despite empty, quiet, and barren halls
Journeying across differences in space and time.

Do, or perish, in this Electric Amistad
For endless weeks, months and years, the prisoners turn into a pall
Their bodies wrecked, their minds ruined, their spirits crushed
As each worker of the world fights with nothing to lose but their chains
As they all grow to realize that every bit of a soul, this ship sustains
Forever chained to the floor in wire; hushed, shushed, and rushed
Whatever is big cannot be fought by someone, or anyone, this small
So they did and they perished in Electric Amistad.

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