Behind the wailing woods these words flow like blood coursing shrapnel Within your mouth darts a lightless, dreadful language Waiting upon your blur-eyed bidding. Christ! It is marvelous this ignorance; This thought that all is glowing and unbroken!
What are you so afraid of? What miserable blade awaits you? What despair? Your world is not vacant of treachery! It is not empty of death! Forty dead! One hundred dead! One hundred and eighty!
The half-starved lamb seeks you out, waits on your mouth to open, To discourage life bleeding out as you unthinkingly blather. The lamb’s tongue flops in the throes of death And you put your insolent ignorance inside licking To breathe, one bomb, one bomb, one bomb!
Behind the wailing woods your ill-bred words are perceived as truth To those who worship and Whose mouths will stand agape waiting on your tongue.
(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)
Behind the wailing woods these words flow like blood coursing shrapnel
Within your mouth darts a lightless, dreadful language
Waiting upon your blur-eyed bidding.
Christ! It is marvelous this ignorance;
This thought that all is glowing and unbroken!
What are you so afraid of? What miserable blade awaits you? What despair?
Your world is not vacant of treachery! It is not empty of death!
Forty dead! One hundred dead! One hundred and eighty!
The half-starved lamb seeks you out, waits on your mouth to open,
To discourage life bleeding out as you unthinkingly blather.
The lamb’s tongue flops in the throes of death
And you put your insolent ignorance inside licking
To breathe, one bomb, one bomb, one bomb!
Behind the wailing woods your ill-bred words are perceived as truth
To those who worship and
Whose mouths will stand agape waiting on your tongue.
© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
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