Orie Dreema

                                     IN THEIR HOTEL

                                      which harbinger of power
                               or encroachment of a human disease
                                       which kissinger of death
                                                          let these bloodhounds 
                                                                    roam at will?
                                               or well nigh at their own
                                                              perverse pleasure
                                                                   to destroy...

                             I see you die at their hands, my friend – 
                          They turn out the light 
                                and spit at you
                              Beat you, mockingly saying
                                We’ll bring your wife
                                          here, into our 
                                        and screw her – 
                                      and electrocute her – 
                                         and let the dogs
                                                        ahh the dogs – 

                                            You know what they do
                                                        once unleashed
                                                  by our lovely Wisconsin
                                                              military police woman?
                                                     Just wait and see, they say 
                                                         we’ll make you talk...

                                                          But talk you won’t
                                                          Or only confused and delirious chhhsss
                                                           And it will be of no use to them
                                                              It will deceive them – 
                                                               make them believe in their power
                                                                        the power that will be
                                                                                their undoing, my friend

                                                          But you – I weep for you
                                                           I weep for every one of you
                                                          Your desecrated mutilated bodies
                                                                         left in hasty graves
                                                                 Strewn like litter, on the sidewalk
                                                                             Hanging from ceilings
                                                                           in their hotel

                                                                                                       Feb. 9, 2013

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