Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

To *key3 

How bad can it get, don't ask me that question 
I'm on the 97th floor terrified, 
hanging from a window, gasping for breath
You want to know, 
if I put faith to the test 

On the phone to my wife, saying I love you please never forget 
Bodies burst in the street below me, certain I am next
you still want to know, 
if I put faith to the test 

My throat has just been cut, on some passenger jet
Leading my ladder up a stairwell to die, drenched in sweat 
You’re repeating that question, 
if I put faith to the test 

Searching through rubble, unsure if there's a fingertip left
Vaporised into nothing, just a photo for the bereft
Disturbing nightmares wake me, shaking and upset,
stop asking me, 
if I put faith to the test 

I go to Afghanistan, an IED rips open my chest
About to be beheaded in Iraq, as a warning to the west
Back on the 97th floor you ask me again, 
if I put faith to the test 

Do I agree with Guantánamo  extraordinary rendition, 
you bet
How about collateral damage, they posed no threat 
Whatever it takes, this fate I'll never accept 
I'm a civilian too, now I jump burning to death

This poem is to remember, 
the 2,977 murdered innocents of 911

one Helios Bastard has already forgotten 
and questions if their faith was put to the test 

A room awaits the cowardly rotten pig 
beside his pal Richard Reid in Florence ADX

They wear the same shoes
The (Tools) of their trade!

By David Kavanagh

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