Mark of a Man

I stand high in the face of the ignorant 
and fall to my knees, humbled at the 
sight of a rose 
As a tree who’s roots grow deep 
choosing desire of passion over 
desire of loin 
I kneel, a footstool of truth 
A lover of all it’s forms 
the truth that burns and the truth hat 
cleanses the burns of the soul 
I walk through the thorny patches of life 
bleeding at the loss of humanity that lies 
in waiting within the corner of my eye 
I tear out the heart of the oppressor 
Here I make my stand, upon the bodies of 
the liars of this world 
They have fear for all things these liars 
of mankind 
but not love of truth on their side 
I have fear of all things, and with Allah at my side 
I reach out my hand and pull down 
the sky
The mark of man is not his pride 
It is not his maleness that makes a 
woman’s heart quiver 
The mark of a man is burned on his skin 
a branding of flesh 
The sign of the footstool 
humbled before the truth Sayers 
It is the living soul in his eyes 
that he leaves a mark 
upon a woman’s heart 
It is the mark of a man quick to battle 
at the sight of inhumanity 
The mark of a man to hold 
his tongue as he is ripped to shreds 
by the talons of men 
that would have him speak the lie 
he staggers at injustice 
falls at the feet of truth 
holds his tongue at moments of 
futility and crushes the fear of the woman 
that loves him 
for this he is branded 
he is a man marked