Litkicks Message Board Archive

The Serial Killer Lullaby

Posted to Poetry

The night was quiet... hell was born in some quiet day several years ago.
A different breed they told us... a different incantation.
We believed it all.
(There is blood on the sheets now.)
We gathered together on the beach and threw a party for Brenda Ann Spencer.
Richard Speck bore us eight children in the night.
(You hear the wenchs scream.)
Murder and death on the streets of revelation...
We all creamed up and had an epiphany in the middle of the eastern war.
(Guns explode in the mind of the child.)
We beat with the hum of reality... and sodomy is the human nature.
We ask humble questions of the ancient gods in the city of Paris.
Alfred Parker and Daniel Conahan Jr. were the men of the indian dream of fantastic terror.
(The mothers of the gay men will run and hide in tiny caves.)
Goodnight oh capital sin... murder is my lullaby for 15 years in some broken off prison I've never seen.