Feeding hands of western promises
hold children by the throat.
See salvation die in porcelain tears,
shed from broken accords.
Innocence betrayed on altar of success.
A thousand Hail Mary’s won’t erase this sin.
Fingers resting on pulse of destruction,
a crack in the seal of Pandora’s box.
Old soldiers, cruising, trying to pick up a war,
while night angels gaze into despair.
Ancient enemies raise peroxide standards,
sweeping blame under histories carpet.
Alleys sing with shrapnel,
detonating a temporary hell,
and some young solider returns a hero
upon the gravestone, his name immortalized.
Swollen bellies cry for freedom
as they cling to threads of life.
Silenced by butt of tyrants gun,
smashing tomorrows thoughts.
~all in the name of progress~
Charon takes loans to pay the passage
on fast track to heavens gate.
Peter’s list grows shorter
while demons cry from the pulpit,
“room for one more”.
Responsibility drowned on a Saturday night,
fighting the flood of vodka and coke.
Where love is measured in one night stands.
In queues outside the abortion clinics,
morning after pill eases the conscience
of a generation that doesn’t care.
Wallowing in self-pity,
taking pills to ease the pain,
in a world that owes us everything.
Yet we give nothing in return.
Copyright © Colin Marschall