Monday, December 19

Fort Finnegan, Gas Chambers

In the fields of death,
They build thousands of gas chambers,
Factoring to kill all who remembers,
Including them who had faith

Under the scorching sun,
As far as the eyes can witness,
Naked lines crawling in madness,
Enough for the soul to fear and run

Into the grey green metal cylinders,
We marched previously dead inside,
On the walls bloody scribbles coincide,
Our Gods vanish to smoldering cinders

In rows upon rows packed tight,
Like terracotta soldiers guarding,
But we were here merely standing,
Soon to be reduced, into the night

Ever imagined the human mind,
What it sees before shutting down,
It sees the beautiful Elysium dawn,
But in here, it slowly went blind

The invincible clock ticked three,
Cascades of yellow bulbs died,
Countless weak souls cried,
Our spirits agonizingly floated free

-gp2005-14/12/05-

[-] My second war poem using the Fort Finnegan theme.

1 comment:

Jeevan said...

nice one GP.

when

it rains around the world sleep welcomes the dream, and  enigmatic souls awaken along the eternal shores of destiny