- Books, Literature, and Writing
Idiots - a poem
If my heart bursts
It will be with fury
For every idiot that lives
Inflicting the death on us all
We name them under our breath
Call them all the wasted words
Under the sun and
Still they breathe
And if my footsteps cover
The trace of harm in others
May they call my number
And give me my due
Justice is a figment in men’s minds
Only God in longevity may hold their gaol keys
but God, God, God
The tears fall and fall and fall
I don’t know why idiots rule us
Their heartlessness has no limits
If we are the slaves of idiots who are we
But greater fools?
If but one day I could cut one down
It would infect my bloodied hands
With the stench of their disease
As sick and cruel as any of their kind
And given the knife, the place, the time
I could give no assurance of not joining their tribe
Because their blood is mine
And it flows in idiocy through us all
So we’ll bomb and slaughter
Make the rope too long, kidnap and torture
We’ll squabble about right and wrong
And melt ice caps and sing our nations’ songs
And if you and I never meet in the middle
To hold up our children and see
And if my heart doesn’t burst with fury
It will stop and melt with guilt and sadness
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