Pulse Riot – Protest Poem

They shout:
“No justice, no sleep!”
“Your power is borrowed, your silence is cheap!”

Concrete shakes with broken chants,
masked faces, restless hands.
The city burns in irony’s glow,
a carnival of anger the leaders don’t know.

Tear gas kisses, helmets shine,
authority hides behind the line.
We laugh at fear, we spit at control,
a riot is nothing but truth on patrol.

History stutters, the crowd won’t comply,
the pulse is alive, and the riot won’t die.

Pulse Riot

Floating Through Coda