Litkicks Message Board Archive

political 1941

Posted to Action Poetry




Is this the real thing?
The children laugh
and the enimies clap
the whooping cough has been known
to run ragged of their souls
daily spirits invent
comfort in the dark, twisted core
of frightened people
loose in the streets of darkness.
Is this tourture deliberate?
The destiny of our blood
runs through the mud soaked
boots of men and women
who had givin their own
for strangers that parade
in the subconscios of your pride
people pulsing private parts
in an 'operation overlord'
on the silk beaches of fierece winds
that hold your fate and take it
undertoe, buried boys under sea.
Repression repulses
their blood as it pulses
screaming silent souls sing
to the nation it clings so despretely to.
The master mind reads prophecies
from the Hades tyrant
and holds his life without tourment
as he does to himself what he did to millions.
Shove your nose
into the shit you made
and smell the pain and sickness
that swarms your brain into a smothering sting.