Sweet Meat Cleaver Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Sweet meat cleaver...
May your sharpened blade,
Be swung to come down swiftly...
To silent false lips attached to crooked necks.
May you have assistence,
From those wishing to expedite...
The cleansing of this demon hex.

Too many lives have been poisoned,
From deceitful feeding.
Too many have died...
To support candlelighted greetings.

Kidnap these beasts from their feasting.
Warmongers toasting the oozing of the bleeding.
And not one of them in celebration feels...
The killing of humanity,
With such zest and zeal!

Ssssweet meat cleaver...
May your sharpened blade,
Be swung to come down swiftly...
To silent false lips attached to crooked necks.
May the coming dawn shine upon those who dance.
Knowing a quickened end to their pain...
Will stop the strutting of those wicked.
With the chopping up of guts,
And the splitting of their brains.

To watch as a cleansing washes away...
This filth that reeks into the reception of welcomed gutters.
And applauded by those healing everywhere encouraged...
Huddled together homeless on public streets.
As the rain removes every stenching stain!
With a gathering to end all division!