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... have no wrath, like an Idol scorned.
By Zahgurim
Southern hospitality leaks a lie, like a teenage mother
leaks her child
Blaming a man
because you refuse to blame God
She has a name and her name is perverse
Spitting on the ground as you say it, cursed
say it,
Katrina, oh Katrina!
your love for us is undying
We blame Big Brother
it is you we're denying
Giving us this, to wash our thighs, our sins
Yet older brother just breaks our limbs and flushes
our kids, hearing our cries
Trading them with the Ferryman
Where is the silver in their eyes?
He let this occure with absolute control
Letting your grandkids fend for themselves, unable
to pay the toll
Respecting you undisturbed, leaves our genes torn with
dirty knees
All we ask is that these words bring him a whipping,
pretty please?
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© 2006 Zahgurim
Published on Friday, May 5, 2006.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Comments on "... have no wrath, like an Idol scorned."
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A former member wrote:
Hmm. This was razor sharp though I think I probably missed the specific direction the general assumptions I gathered made me want to hop on the lynch mob train. Intense. ~Ship!
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On Friday, May 5, 2006, Guillotine
(168)
wrote:
I'm not sure completely where this is pointed... consumerism, modernism... either way a very pwerful and abstract write.
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