A restless night with sweat-soaked sheets,
conjures images of blood-filled streets and pain.
Cetaceans mourn for humanity
as dogs howl at a blood-red moon, which all too soon
becomes a ghastly, horrid, evil eye
staring, as crap, garbage and trash is blasted
into empty rooms and heads to demoralize
the innocent babes who cry for sweet dreams
and whimpering in their beds lose hope.
Where labels and tags speak louder than kind words;
costly automobiles shout down the voices of reason.
Amid the anger, the ambition,
a few struggle against the tides of greed
where vicious cannibals feed on rotting corpses of the fallen.
And some of us weep for the birds.
They have all gone and we are alone with troubled thoughts.
Still, all that we have been taught amounts to nothing
as the seething, vengeful, ignorant masses overwhelm
and we blankly stare at a future that violently passes on
as tomorrow drifts lazily near.
Those with hearts and conscience tear at their flesh, ashamed to be.
Those without, sneer, without mercy and declare the free of mind insane.
Step up now Paddy, show us your DNA and stay awhile at our expense.
You’re always welcome, you know, and in good company.
In the land of the free and home of the naive,
chips are prepared for insertion in their Stepford herds.
Just to be sure, don’t you know.
The winged angels now cast aside their harps and halos in heaven.
To meet Satan’s hordes on level ground they pick up AK-47’s,
two mags, one in the breech. And Peter passes out hand grenades,
three each, and demons screech and spit their venom
and multiply and beseech their master for blood.
Below, below, bellow, roar, scream your prayers,
for no one can hear, no one wants to hear
as small innocents lie huddled and quietly wipe away tears that streak dirty faces.
And follow the cigarette smoke and discover stale beer
and animals and empty food trays with butts and howevers and whatevers,
weighed down with disgust and deaf to lonely sighs.
This is our future and our present where we exist, or don’t, or can’t.
Where dirty old bastards pant at the sight of a child,
or smirk at a broken lifeless corpse never to reach puberty.
And still they don’t see. And still the images come into our very homes.
Insecure domiciles that breed reptiles
and kill smiles and crush children’s dreams.
Oh religion, what use? A front for abuses
legitimised, maximised, scrutinised,
while purity in life is terrorised, brutalised and eventually exorcised.
Oh father why hast thou forsaken me?
Why has this devil taken me to this, a ditch, a pit.
On the dark continent, greed’s acid fingers have left their mark
on a people, on a land. And boundaries declared by an evil heartless man
cause despair and bloated bellies and bulging eyes.
The vultures swarm from cloudless skies
to feast on wasted flesh and rip apart young limbs
and swallow young dreams.
The metal Z-hail still falls in cruel season
eliminating the young of Gaza with cruel reason
as beasts picnic and feed as babies bleed
to soothe a creed of evil cause, in need
of end and bloodied ax on grasping claws
that wrench the life, the homes, the land
from the weakened hands of a people
ignored and gored and floored on demand.
Terrors stream as children scream
as nightmares gleam in a shining bloodied horrific dream.
Awaken tomorrow, perchance, to light on paths not yet spurned,
to blossomed youth with bodies not yet burned,
with choices yet to make, trees to shake, chances to take.
Where hope will trickle behind the stinking flood, and strive.
For without such, how can the good heart hope to survive.