J.A McManus Poems
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The little gods, spitting curses like unholy prayers
Hatred burning in their eyes, consuming like fire
Their hands forever stained with innocent blood.
They wander through the dark, abandoned streets
Their faces cloaked from the misery they spread
The little gods, spitting curses like unholy prayers.
You almost feel sorry for the poor little bastards
Afraid of whatever they don’t or can’t understand
Hatred burning in their eyes, consuming like fire.
So vainly and cheaply they love, then toss it aside
Kicking at the bars of society like babies in a ...
Dead Drummers Beat.
I can hear the pounding of the dead drummers beat
Telling me the secrets that only they can keep
From within their never-ending, dark, dreamless sleep
Lost forever in the waters, so vast and deep.
They tell me of the days when the earth was still young
They teach me the lyrics of songs that they once sung
They tell me tales of bloody battles that they fought
And about all of the lessons which they were taught.