And they gouged its eyes, and ripped out its ears
That no future generations could hear of all the pain
Caused by pseudo-science or thoughts born in fears.
When you think you know what you do not know,
And leap off the ledge into the burning desert snow
You don’t realise how terrible is your crazy show.
But your kids will, and they’ll start screaming
How silly it was not to consider the heat, and that’s
Where we are today, we know more about being
Human. We know that skin colour is just a DNA
Variation, that language varies like wind directions
And that cigarettes will mess up your later days.
But we don’t know if skin colour will stop causing pain
Nor if language modifies the way we live or think
Nor that weed will mess up your later brain.
But I do know that by wiping the mistakes, hiding
Cracks in our foundation, we’re building a shaky future
Where the politically correct act or denying
History was nasty, by renaming, breaking, burning
What once was celebrated for valour, just to fit our mould
Creates ignorant youth who’ll start the same wheels turning.
Like “Et tu Brute”
Like hating brothers,
Pain and love locked
Like “Et tu Brute”
Like hating brothers
Your cross is heavy.
Each day’s prayer begs to be
Answered, as despair is Romeo
Throwing pebbles at your roof.
But you don’t hear it,
You don’t fear it.
The world is a crystal from foreign shores.
You’re so far off it
Yet so near it.
They don’t get it.
May never come.
The orcs hold up the putrid decay once a man’s foot
Sniff it and toss it into the cauldron, and scratch
The bumps on their backs dancing to the rays of the
Flames. There are not enough. They must hunt.
They need more, more, more.
A snort and off into the wild to get more blood
Take more lives.
The prophecy foretold of Dylogus, who would slay
The orcs, but when he was born, a sword
Visited his jugular vein, and his body the
Intestines of these vile creatures.
The sticks scream under the orc’s steps, the leaves
Rush out of harm’s way, and human laughs
Turn to blood-gurgling screams, and
All mourn Dylogus, and there’s growing sense
That the end of suffering was killed with him too.
To all losing their lives in this senseless civil war, RIP: God’s got you.
Pray, pray that there’s an end to the madness. I have hope about the future, but bear great fear as well.