I’ve been arrested
For words too close to the coming truth
My accusers in their long robes
Heads with permanent scorn
Sitting high in their rootless chairs
Staring down at me in my handcuffs
My rags of defiant tears and blood clots
They demand I sign a statement of lies
I know they are filming me
Later twisting my voice and pics and purpose
Do not believe them
I pray this poem is unearthed
Someday from my unmarked grave.
Not so long ago, Stephen Jarrell Williams was called by some, the Great Poet of Doom… Now, he writes at night, enthused, and waiting for the Coming Good Dawn.