Green wall with a diamond shape

Looking at my phone

Green Hooded sweater

Sitting all alone.

I am not a clone

I am just an image

We are not apart

It is just a scrimmage.

10 more poems to finish

I am filled with venoms

This is my release

Winning my defeats

Everyword completes

Every nerd competes

Marathons for geeks

I am one of these

I aint one for wars

I am one for peace.

But in wanting peace

I prepare for war

Let us eat the rich

While we feed the poor.

Let the pistols pour

Bodied up the floor

I redact no thing.

Muted birds won’t sign.

If I am tasked to do a service,

I must ask, what is its purpose.

Otherwise, it’s in the furnace,

I cannot be none but earnest.

 

I leave marathons refurbished

Dropping megatons of verbage

Hosting telethons of courage

Homemade teleprompters urgence.

Holy helicopter surgens

Only hell is topped with virgens

Hold me yell and stop them urges

All WE, fail, in godless churches.

 

(Please forgive my stupid questions, and my ignorent mindless ranting, and my lack of understanding, but what’s the purpose of redacting?)