The crack of whips, the mud and muck of shame,
The buffeting of hammers, stroke on stroke,
Fade out to see the whirling pillar-flame,
The blood of lambs as ransom from the yoke.
The galleys stink with famine, dirt and muck,
The negro bends with blisters on his back,
The shackles drop, he bleeds a stroke of luck,
As battle frees a nation from the rack.
Narcotics mute the screams of cheated whores,
As gunshots beat the children to despair,
Both Avarice and Lust have shut the doors,
Bold Justice shouts for blood and begs for prayer.
We sprinkle bloody lamb upon our door,
For Justice tarries now, but nevermore.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-November 21, 2009