Wednesday, January 26, 2011


Where white was virgin white was pure

White is black; the black of fear

Where time shouts “all you here 

Come close, come hear”

The zombies of history stand

Poker faces, frozen hands

Dumb before the dazzling white

Stunned by the red beacon light

They stand upon their cowardly shame

Time knows they are to blame.  

On the nascent throbbing brain

Like a fresh drop on a window pane

Warped history some figures made

Ensured the sham would never fade

Made certain to annul every date

With time; history’s older mate

For dignity clothed in robes so chaste

Defiled, would flee in vulgar haste

From the nascent throbbing brain

Reckless in its stupor, but not insane

Not so young now, not the same

Would turn the pages, feel the shame

See through the twisting corridor of lies

Walls smudged with tears that echo with cries

Over foul dumps of vices reveling like flies

They will forever stand forever rejoice

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