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Poetry by A.H. Scott
“FUNERAL IN WHITE LACE”
A million guns
A million tears
Can a bullet mollify our basest fears?
Beefs, slights and cutting eyes abound
Damnit! Did you hear that sound?
Sound of the bullet whizzing past your ear
Or, was it the wail of a mother standing over a fallen loved one
Did you hear about the grieving mother’s son?
He was shot by a friend over something so trite
Probably over a girl they fought about last night
Could have been over those sneakers that were ever so fly?
But, then again…does anybody really ask why?
Urban and suburban, the bullets shatter lives in split seconds
Damnit! Did you hear that sound?
Gabby Giffords and several others spread on the ground
Defense says he’s beyond sane
A bullet was lodged in her brain
Damnit! Did you hear that sound?
Latest Batman flick, let’s go and see it quick
Joker filled the night with pain and sorrow
Hair dyed and demented gaze on his face was what the world saw
Damnit! Did you hear that sound?
Tiny chairs empty from the massacre of quintessence in Newtown
Killer took those who hadn’t lived life yet and did so without regret
Damnit! Did you hear that sound?
Let’s go dancing and have a drink
Pretty simple way to relax, you think
Club filled with pulse of life was destroyed in a hateful strife
Seems that some who are filled with such despair don’t appreciate the beauty of life
Love and decency ever so common have been smashed by hearts filled with poison
Hammer of hate is the gun in their hand of frenzied fate
Damnit, that sound is heard again and again!!
Guns don’t kill people we are told with a straight face
Tell that to the mother of the departed at the funeral in white lace
Constitution is a parchment of liberty which has to keep up with today’s pace
Shotgun on the back porch was what existed when the Constitution was written
But, now a weapon that fires multiple rounds is taken as a given
Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I believe in the Second Amendment, too
But, how many guns does one person need?
Seems like the question can’t even be asked without hearing blowback
Dens of reflection where laws are debated are not the streets where core passions are stated
Second Amendment is howled with parrot precision every time a newsflash of tragedy comes across the screen
Beneath the domes of hollow compassion sits those whose careers are bolstered up by cashing in
No poor boy, no poor girl
Two-fisted shakedown in a lobbyist swirl
Parchment of liberty breathes a sigh
After all it is the Constitution, but we do wonder why
Apathetic public hasn’t a clue
No one would believe that we don’t know what to do
Yet, the blood splatters the streets of America from projectiles of death daily
More bullets!
More guns!
More death!
More funerals!
More murals of memory!
More mothers wail, more fathers weep
But, we’ve got a person who wants to build a wall ever so steep
Build that wall!
Build that wall!
High enough on your petard you shall fall
Gotta be tough as nails with brass balls and cold as ice
Kissing the NRA’s ring should suffice
North, South, East, West, when will the pain end tragedy’s quest
Under gunfire attack in the streets of Dallas and Baton Rouge came without warning
America is in mourning
Even after all the tragedy, an irony is laid bare
In the state where the wall builder shall appear, there is a law for open carry
Funeral in white lace and blind allegiance to the Second Amendment shall now walk hand in hand down an aisle of melancholia and marry
Tears flow from sea to shining sea
Funeral in white lace is a place you pray no more souls shall ever be
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About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional poetry by A. H. Scott, go here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/h-scott-threaded-choice/
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Photography by Tony Ward, Copyright 2016