Warcheifs thrum their fingers, rhythmically vibrating atomically waves -skin against oak
sing
as if to enlighten brainstorming sessions on discussions on who to bomb next
-darum-tap-darum-tap
Which mother will spill saline, spittle, snot and blood in screams for her calcium covered babes spattered in red over ghostlike grey concrete clouds
-darum – tap – darum – tap
Blonde assassins sigh unable to comprehend instructions from a master puppeteer
jump and jerk to taste of ashes in their mouths;
scratching their scalp like lackwhits
-darum – tap – darum – tap
Under neon strip lights a babe cried her last
lost, alone, pink and perfect, her small fingers grasp with her final breath
-darum – tap – darum – tap
They look on, and judge on their egotistical thrones, small smiles on their wormy lips as their pockets fill with the profits of pain.
-darum – tap – darum – tap
Musings and Smatterings 