by matthew scott harris
(schwenksville, pennsylvania)
bloodied fingers madly claw 
caskets hermetically sealed 
 bullet riddled bodies crazily didst draw
triggered bloodshed tsunami, 
 where logic insists there must be a flaw 
precious priceless proud loved ones demise 
 festers "stunned disbelief" to gnaw
perhaps shell shocked next of kin 
 utter primal wails resemble distorted hee haw
lifeless loved ones alive just moments ago, 
 these special darlings (dozen plus youth) 
 premature death deprived 
 never delight one or more in-law
whereat deceased brides and grooms 
 denied pledging troth 
 from permanently stilled jaw,
while bereaved 
 inconsolably cry deafeningly, drenching 
 cloths cupping raw cheeks, 
 a cruel prank sans burden thrust upon a maw
(whose womb once housed 
 forever lifeless son or daughter),
rigor mortis out buzzfeeds Stihl chain saw 
shrieking, how, 
 this "NON FAKE" living nightmare 
cast an excruciating pall,
 whence diabolic demons lear
into the opened seam, 
 where under a sheltering sky Gaia doth hear
the deafening lament against 
 a cool, calm and collected 
 frenzied maniac whose flare
ring nostrils adrip with rage 
 exchanged slugs of lead for dear
lee departed souls, 
 where dark clouds may never clear
as the living suffer horrendous psychic hemorrhage
 agonizingly bid their own 
 flesh and blood affixed atop a bier. 
 
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