What painful-hope can be found in,
A bomb strapped to a child-heart,
By an angry-loving father,
Sent to visit those others,
Called not fit to be brothers,
Paradise-promised by one who talks to his god,
I find such a cruel and hateful deity,
Deserves not worship but pity,
No pious supplication,
Only intense renunciation,
And it’s idols ground to dust.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)