And from the coffins of the dead
revenge does rear its sneering head.
Who is at fault you ask me dear
who planted bombs, thus causing fear?
And who, with hands that love their babies
explodes in rage, as touched by rabies?
The answers do not walk the streets
and reason is not what one meets
confusion copulates with hate
and thus creates the ugly state
of payback using bigger guns
and many more of mothers' sons
will kiss the blood already spilled
when without thought they, too are killed.
No mercy is the hunters ploy
philosophy a great decoy.
And when all blood has dried to cake
when no more high rise buildings shake
when not one tear remains unshed
the eyes do close of those who bled
too much for others and for nought
perhaps the reasonable thought
of WHY would pay us all a visit,
and ask about this hate, what is it?
The answer is, my trusted friend
a truth that has a curious bend
it questions what must never be
Look at the culprits? You and Me.