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
hotel
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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