Dead Bodies And Cardboard Poem by David Lacey

Born beneath a dying sun
Mourn for them the dying young.
Lament for those whose song
By siren chords has long since been sung.

Lament for those, skinned and hung from the city gates.
We pray for them this nightmare shall prove easy enough to shake
As the sky bakes slow in furnace fumes, igniting the skies in fury.
There, low and behold the addict merchant selling his soul.

I dreamt last night of a girl I have not seen in years
Years which can not match the tears nor fears in number.
Little did I know that she slept, slumbering numb beneath the mountain.
Dreaming of Pan, of ancient scented night.

King of Hedgerows, Prince of Circus Shows
Queens of the Flow gather in flowering
Embrace the bloom, the pinnacle of the chase.
Race the moon to see her face.

How long have you been guardian to this shell?

Your hell is cold.
Your heaven warm.

I was never told
I was never warned

Of eggshell time within fragmented dimensions
I’m left with no path and no hope of redemption.

Was it the promise of salvation
That woke you every Sunday morn?
Show me your scars, your crown of thorns.
Show me the Christ child in the eyes of the new born.


The youth are crowded in the shade
Digging there with diamond spades
Fading in the shadows cast and fast enlisting.
Cringing at media portrayed portraits of their generation,
Supposed portrait of a nation.
A nation underground unfound
Here no one makes a sound.

How is it these fools, these ministers of schools
Can keep it all so cool as they push for blanket death?

A blanket to cover the Death of the soul
A blanket to cover the Death of the mind
A blanket to cover the Death of the body
A blanket to cover the Death of the blind.

I see children torn from the playground
Force fed knowledge and left to suffer no wisdom
Taught to regurgitate for the hand that would beat them.
Beat them if only they could.

Show me the skins on the leash of the freaks
Show me the bold worship the meek.
Show me the snowflake cold in the sun
Show me the restless, the new guns, the young.

Three birds sitting
Watching
Cold eye on warm life decaying
Maggot child of a million unseen eyes
How long can you last?
The children will not fast forever.

Dead bodies and cardboard surround
A pony dead upon the ground
Scorched earth, broken earth
No survivors found.

No one made a sound.