contemplativeBlood on the Ground
Poem for Day 181 – 20150630
It takes the blood of the innocents
to make a politician clean.
It takes death on public display
to make you come and play with us.
Welcome to the scene of the crime,
time for you to make your appearance,
cue the cameras and microphones,
don’t mind the stains where life once was.
Blood on the ground,
Sound bite send for the masses.
Blood on the ground,
better than kissing the babies.
Meet the issue only half-way,
one eye towards the power base.
Platitudes placed at the grave,
scurrying back to those who vote.
They may be fellow citizens,
but constituency is not in play.
Outliers to the real supporters,
faceless enemies in lesser times.
Blood on the ground,
say something appropriate.
Blood on the ground,
don’t agitate your voters.
You say that hate is the cause,
disconnect from the greater mass.
Beware the mirror while you vent,
hatred's image will be your own.
You say mental health is the cause,
screw loose in the hater's attic.
Repeat the mantra if you dare,
you're supported by the hardware store.
Blood on the ground,
credit the hate in the one.
Blood on the ground,
ignore the hate in the all.
Blood washes clean the soul,
purity restored as tears pour,
but be aware of sorrow's deep end
with twelve feet of vein's life.
Sprinkle the droplets and dip the hands,
this is all you would like to do.
To fully face the greater crimes
would cause you swiftly drown.
Blood on the ground,
you’ll never wash your soul.
Blood on the ground,
you’ve come here to drown.
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
