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With Cold, Dead Hands

Herb Alyètte Avatar    Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled With Cold, Dead Hands which was written by poet Herb Alyètte. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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With Cold, Dead Hands

Officer, I’m innocent
Of what I am accused
I didn’t kill The Preacher Man
With what you say I used

He’s lying in a pool of blood
On the cold chapel floor
And here you stand, you killed the man
With cold, dead hands

No sir, I did no such thing
I never touched the man
I didn’t kill the preacher
With my cold, dead hands

You have the right to say not a single word
Until your judgement cometh
We’ll hang you by the neck, but for
Your cold, dead hands

I wave that right, these hands are pure
As honest as I stand
I never killed that preacher
With my cold, dead hands

Of course you did, you have a grudge!
For this you’ll go to hell!
You’ll got to hell, ‘cause you rebelled
You’ll spend your days in Satan’s cell!
I know you killed the preacher
With your cold, dead hands! 

You really think that I’m afraid?
These hands are as warm as a gun!
What I’ve begun, won’t be undone
The fight for Reason will soon be won
I didn’t kill the preacher with my cold, dead hands...
I shot him with intent
Between his cold, dead eyes

Copyright © Herb Alyètte

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  1. Date: 6/9/2010 7:25:00 AM
    Very expressive title and nice thoughts