Paradise shores!
This my friend where sorrow ends,
Can death so brutal make amends?
Not living yet, but dead so soon,
Naked beneath an ice cold moon,
Their little hearts don’t beat no more,
Dead they lay along the shore,
With blood and guts, and all that gore,
With pike and club it tore,
Stained blood red the icy seas,
No more now mother hears their pleas,
Murdered in cold blood they are,
Lay still now on the shore afar,
Pontius though he washes blood,
That stained his hands of glut,
But this forever stained his soul,
Not wash it in this bowl,
The priest he blessed all the dead,
And joins in drink and feast instead,
That makes it right by god,
God’s men of common sod,
If conscience lives in frail disguise,
Of falsity religious wise,
Blesses murder just because,
They’re just not one of us,
This to me is blasphemy,
For all in us can see,
And surely God will too,
For he made them, and me and you,
The road to Auschwitz ahead does lie,
I don’t care if millions die,
They’re not like us, not real,
They’re only, little tiny seal.
©09/03/200
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Horrendously sad, as is that photograph, and it so very sadly seems that man's atrocities against our earthly neighbors will never end.
"Dead they lay along the shore,
With blood and guts, and all that gore..."
In Spirit,
Bear
Georg