An Afghanistan Wedding
The swift and silent missiles swept,
The quiet well kept neighborhood.
They ran like hell, those that could,
While the reposed laid in their best dress.
With evil-doers upon the earth,
Vigilant must be the pursuit.
To cut the sickened by the root,
And banish vile impure thought.
With white-collar crime for collateral,
It matters not the costs.
As pockets line, the death toll climbs,
While the positioned take sabbatical.
And I cannot hide my bastardness,
For when we kiss my lips fall dead.
Copyright © Dean Walker | Year Posted 2005
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