The Grief of a Windchime
you don't hear much about sleeper cells anymore
no whispers of
elevating or lowering
the terror alert...
we've lost the rippled art of vigilance i suspect
but you can bet the ghosts of the pentagon,
twin towers and Shanksville haven't.
The creepers will certainly crawl
up from the steps of hades-
about every seventeen years..
so willing to toss fire around
my abacus clicks that they're way overdue
ready to go another deadly round or two.
Yes they're alive and thriving alright..
some are more of the subtle type
they do damage with lye tongues.
they've infiltrated grade schools
imbedded fetid stingers into campuses
spreading a special blend of hateful cancer...
one devil even married kin
to slithered their way
into our most sacred places
reaping the rewards of our nation
while constantly race baiting
vomiting an endless torrent of baseless complaints-
We've left porches unlit - screen doors unlocked
now cicadas are emerging from fiery cribs
harassing the stillness of our windchimes -
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment