They can be heard
floating around the living dead
sibilant whispers
whittled out of subdued sobs
sputtering from the gory lesions
of violence…
iniquities, rape, murder, wars
they can be felt tattooing
incredulously ~
why? why? why?
on callous consciences
with the ink of their spilt blood
in sinister shades of anguish,
hurt, horror outrage, terror
they can be ignored
even now as then
while humanity slits its own throat
and inscribes its obituary
in the annals of barbarity
gloating obscenely
at its own treachery
