Blood begets blood
Wet red forgets
Where it came from
In the maelstrom
Of the war drums
That beat on from

My grandfather
Was murdered by
That group
But he didn’t die
Because of that guy

It was fifty plus years ago
And everyone here knows
Someone who was a victim
My mother, her brother
His wife and children
Your father his sister
Her daughters

Blood quickens
As rage thickens
Pools cross the streets
Faces become pulpy meat
And carnage becomes
More knives, bombs, and guns

The night swallows our sun
As it takes all of our sons
And soldiers become casualties
And school children
Become sidewalk art

And I cannot hold
Anymore horror in my heart
So I empty my vessel
Of summers and springs
To swallow more ****** dreams
All this madness becomes poetry
For you to read
Even though you will not