The cold hard sting
of the naked chosen stone;
Felled, now, to the ground,
and left there all alone.
Into the heart of mother earth,
the sweet life force now seeping.
Timeless echo in distant wind;
Rain now felt as weeping.
Just or not, thus subjective;
Fates, alas, bespoken.
Fury rumbles deep within;
Vengeance hath awoken.
Stone of stone is brought to war,
lusting to atone;
To still the cries of heaven’s night,
crushing flesh and bone.
In still dark silence behind wide eye,
seething to the brim;
In fiery heart is steel forged,
and honed down deep within.
Oft unsheathed, the cold rung steel,
and brought unto the field;
Every heart on fury’s road,
against warm, soft flesh to wield.
Enemies abound for all,
who would to slay for an ideal;
Plans are dark and hidden up,
the truth aimed to conceal.
In the name of love, doth hate reign;
Rage brought to thy door;
Partake then, in this dread mayhem,
or you shall be no more.
Time changeth no man,
but giveth only his craft to refine;
Devices of rage and of carnage,
he metes out against the divine.
Blind in vile hate & distrust,
beguiled by his own schemes;
Care only for his esteemed-self,
and those who’d share his dreams.
Guns at his sides, he no longer strives
to attain any sort of great skill;
He aims and he shoots, whom he doubts or who loots,
desperate only to kill.
He is what he was, and all that he does,
a vile and true evil being;
He goes through his life, peppered with strife,
whilst never actually seeing.
“Just following orders, far across borders,
protecting freedoms, says I”;
Obeyed his dear brother, to Murder another,
and took the life from his eye.
“They were different from me, didn’t you see,
and my blood began to boil”;
He didn’t much care, that you sent him there,
for money and for oil.
You needed protection, before an election,
and to safeguard those you love;
He’ll murder & kill, then just take a pill,
and listen to those above.
You sent him to die, a faint tear in your eye,
with hopes he will prevail;
You’ll give up his life, for political strife,
and greed behind thin veil.
The enemies of War, each other ignore;
Blindness is truly a must.
“My side is right”, as ideals they’ll cite;
Both feel their cause is more just.
“We’re so much better”, claim they, in their fetter,
than those who don’t share their cause;
From up in their tower, they send forth their power,
against all Nature’s Laws.
“Its not ‘Murder’, just War”, they try to implore,
meanings slightly askew;
Believing it justified, regardless who lied,
or what we all really knew.
“Its kill or be killed”, “its what God has willed”
Say they to you, and you them;
All are the same, and you’ll kill in His Name,
be it God, Allah, or Hashem.
He takes it to school, he’s nobody’s fool;
He’ll show them all who’s right.
He’s got all the power, from up in that tower,
and now he’s ready to fight.
He’s got 30 guns, for those whom he shuns,
in case the day finally arrives;
He’s bided & waited, and will just be elated,
when he’s free at last to take lives.
You might be a queer, ‘colored’ or near,
foreign, or even a Jew;
You may be impaired, or values not shared,
so much he doesn’t like about you.
He’s set in his ways, like the old-timey days,
a glaze drawn over his eyes;
He isn’t much fazed, its how he was raised,
a soothing assortment of lies.
Its under his bed, and one by his head,
he’ll murder you with his gun;
You’re probably black, and want to attack;
He’s always ready to kill someone.
Afraid he might die, but he’ll give it a try,
this ‘going outside all alone’;
If he’s scared enough, or if you’re too tough,
he’ll murder you for your tone.
Its part of his job, to stop those who rob;
He may take a shot here and there.
He’s protected by fools who make their own rules;
All persons of color, beware.
A badge he may’ve had, could be your dad,
or fine funny friend in your home;
There’s blood on his hands, like the seas and the sands,
with him where’er he roam.
Harm that he’s done, Bells that he’s wrung,
the Dead Knells which have Tolled;
Are all but the sound, deep in the ground,
of the fates to which he’s enrolled.
The test of his might, a most harrowing sight,
his role in life thus sealed;
His anger and wrath, brought him here, where it hath,
to what fates, at last, revealed.
The sword that hath bled, fell on his head,
the shooting gun turned to his eye;
He killed what he hated, and never abated,
and now he surely must die.
But to end his life, with gun, chair, or knife,
was to seal yourself the same fate;
You cried & attacked, with vengeance did act,
and took up the mantle of hate.
To avoid the temptation, of fury’s elation,
and find your peaceful haven;
Is to stand at the door, and fear nevermore,
and be the one true braven.