GLEANING THE MYTH

Just who the hell do you think you are?
Coiled scale-up-snake on the heap of want,
Threshing down, down, down, down…
Over the back-snap-rape of one cell, one flesh.

Tell me just who the hell do you think you are?
Gleaning the myth of your shadowy scope, spittle down,
Down, down, down, down…
Stop your god-damned-marauding slaughter;
Your `if-it-suits-me-put-`em-to-death’ prattle!

You’ve not God tucked under your coat! God’s weeping mightily!
You’ve a small-g-god stuffed inside your loathe-filled-head!
You slaughter ideas, execute joy, and bend upright hope
And mold God into some monstrous slump-down-dreg!
Collateral damage will be your final stem-celled-shrieking,
You son-of-a-bitch!

Copyright © 2006 mrp


One Veteran's Voice

Genius of Insantiy

MEMORIAL

For those whose mouths opened in delight,
For those whose lips were wet with the truth,
For those whose pens and ideas flowed forth,
For those who constructed the shores in light,
For those still weeping after the music waned,
For those now spent of this; our mortal choir,
Your day is marked with solemn remembrance
And your account slumbers `neath the world.

We will soon ask you for a prudent counsel
On matters of war and subversions to truth.

Lend us your guidance one last time,
For we are of need your tongue.
It is reason we now seek.
It is a granite tenacity…
Come! Speak! Speak, I pray!
Pour forth your knowledge!
Speak! For this; our world, cannot wait…




mrp