Back Alley Classroom Surgery

In poetry, there are no rules
There is no formula
And if
you carve
it up
like
a villain
you will most certainly
Butcher it.
It comes
from the soul, 
Not from a pattern- 
Cookie cutter, 
Sewn together. 
Sown into the ground
Buried, not planted
THERE IS NO IDEAL
It pours from you 
You do not create
You bleed
The words out
They find their own way
They were always 
there. 
And when the words finally fail,
music succeeds. 
Can we please
not deconstruct
Can we please 
not murder words
Like people murder people, 
neglect
serial killer
mercy?
hospital bed
punctuation
Rupturing an artery
a vein
a heart.
Sending boys
and now girls too
to war
equal in death
before dying
Pawned off to
Skeletonize.
Flags on coffins
say we
won. 
Let it be
they sing on
the streets and in
the churches and in
the shower. 
Break the circle
rupture the pattern
the pattern
the pattern
on repeat, 
The Beats
bleed
You cut them
deep