The Grief of a Windchime
You don't hear much about sleeper cells anymore
No whispers of elevating or lowering the terror alert...
I suspect we've lost the rippled art of vigilance.
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.
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.
Embedded fetid stingers into campuses.
Spreading a special blend of hateful cancer...
One she-devil even married kin to get in
The Trojan camel tromped into our most sacred places.
unabated.
Reaping the rewards of a generous nation
while 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 sweet wind chimes.
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