Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
harun-shukriPoems
We are sons of guns Once a son of man. Now, dutiful to our guns Our hearts are daubed with beautiful hatred And ugly love Our youthful years borrowed To Mystic Voyage From birth at dawn to death at dusk Via life by midday We are the slaying generation An Estate Hired to death Planted with bullets In slaying season And graves harvested In dying season Each dawn awakes a new orange feeling Shadowed by a wordless numbness at noon Sunset usher’s eventide’s restlessness As terror covers the darkness Panic envelopes the night Hearts hammering the chest Pounding worryingly Until the rapid rhythm of the heart beats Matches the pace of the Drumming Boots of the soldiers Bang, bang! To each door Sightless sounds of commanding voices… “Open up” A pause…silent noises Sounds of Gunshots…Ram! Pam! Pam! Crack open the screaming orchestra Of women and children Everyone is guilty until proven innocent Home is not a safe shade no more Your own House betraying you Growing Into a shadow I wonder why the meat sings In praise of the butcher Horror commands the naked hours of midnight As fear rules the remaining decades of hours till dawn.
0
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Sons of Guns
We are sons of guns Once a son of man. Now, dutiful to our guns Our hearts are daubed with beautiful hatred And ugly love Our youthful years borrowed To Mystic Voyage From birth at dawn to death at dusk Via life by midday We are the slaying generation An Estate Hired to death Planted with bullets In slaying season And graves harvested In dying season Each dawn awakes a new orange feeling Shadowed by a wordless numbness at noon Sunset usher’s eventide’s restlessness As terror covers the darkness Panic envelopes the night Hearts hammering the chest Pounding worryingly Until the rapid rhythm of the heart beats Matches the pace of the Drumming Boots of the soldiers Bang, bang! To each door Sightless sounds of commanding voices… “Open up” A pause…silent noises Sounds of Gunshots…Ram! Pam! Pam! Crack open the screaming orchestra Of women and children Everyone is guilty until proven innocent Home is not a safe shade no more Your own House betraying you Growing Into a shadow I wonder why the meat sings In praise of the butcher Horror commands the naked hours of midnight As fear rules the remaining decades of hours till dawn.
Written by
harun-shukri
M
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem