cloaked in night’s darkness
freedom’s children’s rights are raped
like women he’s raped
children orphaned by government
the book of dying 1:3…
as children died women cried out
these are children born from us
god charged us protect each one
but your greed sears their flesh
a question of burial rites…
Getty Image
pastors
of
god’s new light
support
mr
trump
and
his
disciple senators
his disciples
are
capturing people
taking
them
to the church
of
blind obedience
and
massacring them
during
animated religious rituals
in
the senate
their dismembered bodies
can be found
along
the border
on
battlefields
on
city streets
or
in
veterans’ hospitals
though
some
concerned citizens
have become
alarmed
the blood
still flows unabated
so far
the only shields offered
have been words
like these
that have yet
to
stop one child
from
dying
with no parent
to
ease their passing
twas the life before christmas…
wrapped
in
such bright foil
and
moving
you might wonder
whose
christmas gifts
these
are
shall i tell you
these
are
for
despair
small
government orphaned
children
nestled
all snug
in
their
thermal blankets
on
cold
border floors
while visions
of
their parents
dance
in
their heads
as
they face
another day
of
dread
new funding source for the border wall…
standing
in a line
outside
the old town
free clinic
was
the brown bag prophet
who said
i’m here
to get
my yearly
flu shot
don’t want
to
join
the 61 thousand
that
died last year
in
the states
guess
i’m luckier
than
some folks
like
those children
detained
at our
southern border
seems
us customs
and
border
protection
have decided
not
to give
influenza vaccine
to
migrant children
in
their care
that
should free up
some
bucks
for
the lump’s wall
nostradamus note #6…
when hungry jackals
feed on the bones of children
freedom’s lost for all
child solitary soul confinement…
eyes
move slowly
concealing fear
heavy boots
drug like bodies
across
cold
concrete floors
are seen
from beneath
thin thermal sheets
heart beats
racing
chasing
shallow breaths
dried tears
cling
like arms
around
a parent’s waist
are
the only trace
of moments
best
forgotten
this cannot
be
the dream
the dream
shared
by so many
before
leaving
for
freedom
this
cannot
be
este no puede
ser
el sueño
abattoir…
the small ruminants
are lined up
on cold
concrete floors
use of knives
has been
prohibited
there’d be
a risk
of
noticeable
skin damage
but
there will be
no escape
nor mercy
the holding pen’s filth
will
soon
be washed away
but for now
a child
lies
unbathed
curled
in fear
for some
a child
of
god
for
others
a filthy beast
no better
than
lambs
for the slaughter
i wonder
what
do you
see
and
believe
no room at the inn…
another
unanswered ad
low-skilled
entry-level job
starting pay
less
than welfare
must show
desire to work
without
adequate compensation
you
must be
seeking
a better life
for
your children
rather
than
personal wealth
if
you’re currently caged
at
the border
no worries
there’s no rush
card-carrying americans
will not apply
for
these positions
or
will be unable
to
pass
our drug screening
once employed
our family law attorneys
will make
every effort
to
locate
and
reconnect you
with
your children
so
that
your deferred dream
can
become
an american dream
a different palate option…
cold dark earth with death’s foul breath fills the earth’s lungs and children’s eyes
war’s orphans buried beneath layers of hate and poison gas
wine’s sampled by politicos while the children taste death’s brew
