Swing This

Here's a six round
leather bound caress
of all your conscience,
and I must confess
there's cadence to be found
in all this nonsense.

But a fine line
separates the weight
from the punch up
we anticipate.

There's a six round
too profound release
still dodging fire
from your thought police,
still waiting for rebound
and aiming higher.

So play another 2 by 4 blues,
righteous as hell.
Swing your pretty caveman club,
cause who could ever tell,
when skull cracked, gob smacked,
run to rags, to mud, to earth,
who stole away the echo,
turned all gravity to dirt.

There a six round
justice in my hand.
Any moment now
I will disband.