Guns For Mad Men
Maimed in Miami’s neon glare,
Dead in Dallas under blood-red skies,
Cut short in California’s golden air,
Obliterated where Oklahoma lies.
Consumed in Colorado’s mountain shade,
Fired in Florida’s humid, fevered breath,
Killed in Kentucky’s shadowed glade,
Torn in Texas by the hand of death.
Murdered in Michigan’s cold embrace,
Shattered in Chicago’s restless night,
Nabbed in New York’s frantic pace,
Critical where Connecticut’s lights burn bright.
Gunned in Georgia’s sultry, silent fields
Mad men wielding iron forged in rage,
Liberty twisted for the fool who yields
to chaos, where no reason turns the page.
They cannot spell the sacred worth of breath,
nor grasp the fragile pulse that time has lent;
a culture fractured, courting violent death,
where guns replace the quiet argument.
Yesterday it stained the Texas plain,
tomorrow’s shadow falls on unknown sod
in that wide land where logic lies in chains,
and steel alone decides the will of God.
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