clanging down upon existence;
the hell’s bell strafing the motherland
in shock and awe’s comeuppance?
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Not nearly enough of the breathing.
For the idle flesh... it’s now beyond remittance.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
For whom should it toll?
And for how much longer?
Ask the twisted faces... staring back in anger.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Behind us, the screeching gloom hunched in wait.
In front, that goddamned piece of paper
of which... we’ve made a solemn pledge.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
What should each of us do?
And why should each of us do it?
Ask the occupied... that kneel in rigid prayer.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Who should heed the gruesome chord?
And who should meet the looming strike
of shock and awe’s reward?
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Not nearly enough of the living.
For the fallen... it’s now beyond their giving.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Who should stand and hold back hell?
And who should end its surge?
Ask the million ghosts... clanging on the bell.
© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
Once Upon a time...
The Bloodthirsty Murderers of a Million
The Bloodthirsty Murderers of a Million
