The Music of The Angels
A Poem For Peace
Beneath this volcanic inferno named hell,
Shackled to the very center of its flame;
Angels gather with hindered wings,
A tsunami brews in Satan’s name.
Evil never rests,
A bubbling plague in motion;
Angel’s voices are softly fading,
The devil brews his potion.
Little boys are murdered,
Children are dismembered;
Bloody knives and concubines,
Living ghosts remembered.
Fading into the facade;
The apathetic point their knife,
A bloodbath of heinous laughter–
Jerusalem breathing for her life.
Delirious with fury,
Through the rings and rungs of hell,
The shriek amid the gunfire;
Shaking jaws whisper Shema Yisroel.
Dark shadows peek,
Hidden beneath the ferns;
Animals drawing prey,
And still the fire burns.
Death carries a tune,
The end awaits; it sings.
Lurking ever close,
Its deep falsetto screams.
Heroes are held captive,
Babies purely slain;
Massacred by monsters,
Holocaust does not wane.
Mistaken for possessing beating hearts;
Danger survives the block.
Dusk and dawn don’t bring new hope,
Tomorrow’s already gone.
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For the child’s legacy,
The angels delicately beseech.
For the faith ablaze, a merciful daze,
That seems so out of reach.
And then…
From upon the haunting silence;
The angels break free for arrival.
Comfort to begin our own revenge,
Hatikva, our constant survival.
Hell is alive;
A relentless battle within and overhead—
But when the war is over,
It is always what is dead.
Flecks of gold come to life,
Swirls of glitter rise;
Today the angels fly,
Fly angels, fly.