Ronald Tirino Poet Free verse

Children of Guernica

Children of Guernica

Children of Guernica . 
 
In deserts of no mans land 
children play among the dead 
killer themes from killer kings 
what is the song they sing 
comes raining down in 
shrews of blood 

Bombs burst though silent 
air beyond the red glare 
where mothers and children lie bare 

In scripted carcasses of crumbling bricks 
amidst the city streets 
broken bodies limbs screaming 
wombs of agonizing cries of despair 
dropping down death from above 
in the safety of the night 
rivers of blood and angels of death 
circle from high above 

Sleep of sleepless dreams lie amidst the decaying corpses 
 children dressed in delicate dressings 
starch white linen in ghostly silence 
the lambs laid out to rest 

Once so shocking citizen casualties 
now so common collateral damage 
distill the horrors of war 
deadly games on computer screens 
without touch or smell 

Rage distorting the outline of shadow 
horse’s teeth open wide to the sun 
and necrophilia battle cries of death 
stand still like ghosts amongst the dying flames 

Wounded Pegasus gaping 
requiems for generations yet to come 
hypnotized to drum beats of war 
where monsters of the id come alive 
in the cradles of scorched earth lit destruction 

Children born to such things 
wander through the deserted streets 
where there is no home to rest 
sleep the dream of children 

Lower at dawn their veils    
through broken clocks time stands still 
And tides rise over setting moons   
amidst the lambs spheres of love vanishes 
in landscapes of pain 

Minotauromachy rises amidst the dead 
monatours of death die slow 
when swords turn to plowshares 
iron bombs to gates that open 
the hearts of wounded men 
hush a by don’t you cry 
go to sleep my little babies 

In the meadows lie the little lambs 
friends of the western  winds 
leave tortures on the bleeding grass 
in lust for blood and shadows of fears 

Moons of serpents awake before the dawn 
crucible of blood cast bare amidst 
the trembling wheat 
street symphonies of stripped flesh 
hanging from the poplar trees 

Instruct us of our internal natures 
inner conflicts and battlegrounds of distress 
death instincts and dark knights of the soul 
of tragedies and waste doorways through hell 
and roots of indignant screams

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