by matthew scott harris
(schwenksville, pennsylvania)
bloodied fingers madly claw
caskets hermetically sealed
bullet riddled bodies crazily didst draw
triggered bloodshed tsunami,
where logic insists there must be a flaw
precious priceless proud loved ones demise
festers "stunned disbelief" to gnaw
perhaps shell shocked next of kin
utter primal wails resemble distorted hee haw
lifeless loved ones alive just moments ago,
these special darlings (dozen plus youth)
premature death deprived
never delight one or more in-law
whereat deceased brides and grooms
denied pledging troth
from permanently stilled jaw,
while bereaved
inconsolably cry deafeningly, drenching
cloths cupping raw cheeks,
a cruel prank sans burden thrust upon a maw
(whose womb once housed
forever lifeless son or daughter),
rigor mortis out buzzfeeds Stihl chain saw
shrieking, how,
this "NON FAKE" living nightmare
cast an excruciating pall,
whence diabolic demons lear
into the opened seam,
where under a sheltering sky Gaia doth hear
the deafening lament against
a cool, calm and collected
frenzied maniac whose flare
ring nostrils adrip with rage
exchanged slugs of lead for dear
lee departed souls,
where dark clouds may never clear
as the living suffer horrendous psychic hemorrhage
agonizingly bid their own
flesh and blood affixed atop a bier.
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