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war and horror
the incessant march of terror
forever exalting
the hemorrhaging wounds of culture

the pageantry of slaughter sanctified
by statute, by scripture
by capital incentivized
roaring with the pleasure of stocks' continued rise
the dead-eyed bless the dying
signum crucis, aim, fire

cowards who swill
the rancid trough of dogma
the piss of their masters
and blood of their children
limbs blasted off
and mounted high as freedom
every body, a tribute that's due
the triflings of power

prayers rush to smother every victim
whose lives are gone, their names, their purpose
every absence nuclear and fervid
mutates survivors, jeered in their recourse
by brazen propagandists
blood-drunk profiteers of violence
scourging captives raw till hoarse voices creak to silence
turn pain abstract
like that of flies or cattle

death, defeat, the fear, the anger
existence undone, ceaseless in rancor
mourn for the lost and fear for the future
a violent dread

and still they prattle on about god and guts and heroes
while we rage in congregation, we cry in swarming rooms
a sea of platitudes bereft of meaning for bereaved
who suffer every nightfall, who dread each waking day
whose haggard voices fall to distant pleas

a violent dread

they hope for a crowded tomb
the powerful pray for profit
full of contempt
for the tired pleas
of our violent dread

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