Iran = The Missiles Are Coming Poem by Tom Zart

I stare at the dust as it tries not to fall
Swirling in the sun streams from the windows on the wall.
Down in the valley ring lonely church bells
Sounding their message as the Devil’s brood swells.


The missiles are coming though I can’t tell you when
As they drop down upon us our lifestyles shall end.
You can hide underground or fly far away
Their lingering fallout will find you someday.

No more small children shall toddle off to schools
Because of mistakes of grownup mad fools.
Believing in space men and the ships, which they fly
You can bet as it happens, they’ll watch it and cry

The generals are playing a death game of dare
With missiles in the silos and bombs in the air.
There’ll be time for anger, there’ll be time for greed
But the time shall be lost for planting the seed.

America has survived all attempts to destroy
Knowing the cruelty of sorrow, death and war
And we who remain Must help keep her free
For all who can march and love Her no more!


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