The Coolest Thing Is Writing a Fairly Good Poem and Know Twelve People Wll Read Me

MALICE IN BLUNDERLAND New born babies are being brutalized by a bastion of bastards and b*****s S**t I couldn’t do that if I were offered untold riches All the money in the world couldn’t motivate me to commit such an atrocity As the blood of beautiful babies flow due to a self-serving monstrosity I hear of all the babes who are stabbed, shot or beaten to death The tiny ones who were only recently blessed by their birth’s first breath But all too soon a baby’s blessing of breath becomes an acerbic curse When heathens head a hoard of men to codify the madness of a monster or worse The devil is their kin while hellish horror is their credo and misbegotten belief Because too many babes are born to be baptized and bastardized by gargantuan grief It’s a staggering and insipid account I hear far too often With snapshots in living color of another corpse in a tiny coffin Infants are instantaneously incinerated when insanity comes quite caustically to call How the hell they can do it is, fortuitously for me, something I will never understand As the unrighteous and unholy ogres who see babes as souls to murder, mutilate and maul And is there anyone guarding and guiding this all? Babes birthed by the grandiose and aggrandized are being brutally butchered As some heinous individual ignores the severity of a parent’s needs And thanks to the mortician that babe no longer bleeds As these Babes birthed by the grandiose and aggrandized babies are being butchered by brutal brutes with despicable malice While a mahogany and gold leafed casket becomes an innocent’s eternal chalice © 2011.…..Phreepoetree ~free cee~!