Sunday, May 21, 2017

day ONE HUNDRED and TWENTY TWO

The ICE Men Cometh
 
Men made of shit say bring it on
They target souls from Mexico
They lie to us, themselves they con
They go to places only killers go
 
Behind the fence, behind the wall
to places where the bones lie deep
They murder freedom, hope and all,
the promises this land would keep --
 
if it were built on liberty,
if it were called 'land of the free,'
if founders vowed their work to be
the cradle-home of liberty. 
 
The soulless call for more police
They beat their chests and wave a gun
The tallies of their sins increase
Beneath drear clouds and bloody sun
 
Their skeletons will walk the land
In endless night of poisoned dreams
To bloody work they lend their hand
to infants' cries and parents' screams
 
They feed their face on cries of fear
Their hearts are drained of human blood
The countdown of their days draws near
Their brains are ash, their bodies mud
 
No one will mourn their dying day.
The statue weeps for those they hurt
Their tyrant's sins in hell they pay
Her tears stir life; their flesh is dirt.
 
--Robert Knox

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