John Weber

Rookie (April 10,1972 / Milwaukee, WI)

Burnt Commands - Poem by John Weber

In my soft rind
light scars me blind
to fumble lost.
Invocations
from crushed nations
spew black exhaust

at rogue titans
while they frighten
to sell all Hell
made in China.
Our angina
compels farewell

prayers from devout
voices that shout
prophetic words
written by hand
to singe doom's brand
upon Earth's herds.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 28, 2009



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