Nighthawk

Nighthawk    6/26/2015 

How many nights did I feel it?

That agonizing twinge

Staring at a stained carpet,

And praying I would survive.    

Some have avoided calamity

And some recline in luxury

Making money for nothing

And laughing all the way. 

How many have they crushed?

And how many, have they forgotten?

Conveniently discarded

Casual and cruel. 

Outside, there are predators

Who crave innocent blood

A red terror of brown shirts

Hunting easy prey.    

Marching under a false flag

And worshiping a paper calf

A wordless wonder

Empty and dead. 

Once there was iron

But now, it’s mostly clay

Selling us all out  

And giving it all away.   

Beware the feral dog

Snarling in the shadows

Digging under the fence

And lunging at your neck.

Like a ton of bricks

Comes the dawning horror

That all could have been avoided

Easily crushed long ago

With courage and conviction. 

But isn’t that, how it always ends

Doubled over in regret

Gasping in horror

And unable to move.

Look now and see

The devil in the street

Proud as a peacock

Treacherous and vain. 

Pray that it is soon

And keep a watchful eye

That no one catches you sleeping

In another dark night 

Moonless and dead.