For whom the bells toll When sentenced to die The stuttering rifles Will stifle the cry The monstrous anger The fear's rapid rattle A desert inferno Kids
Like a weasel in the clover You tilt, toss, pop, turn over Sit down Tremble, weave like a moth By flame deceived Sit down Like a weasel in the clover
There were women holding rosaries On the day Manolete died Teenage girls in soft white dresses Standing silent peace respecting Groups of boys held in
There was light and atomic fission Swelling wind, rising ash, tide of black rain Cement seared shadow traces Reminiscent of their last commands Instantly
Imitate that soured old song There is no individuality Only guises Shades of nonconformity There is no individuality Selling vantage points Low rate
Greta's cedar hope chest Is full of pamphlets Glass shelves of romantic vignettes A journal laced with sedimentary prose Norma gathers and collects vintage
Honor salute and speak To the corner standing flag Do you remember how The days of school were Indivisible separate worlds Compare contrast These dreams
She borders the pavement, flanks avenues Parades pass white glove attended by my mother the war She'll raise a shaft, lift a banner, toss a rose My mother
In the cruel garrison of affection If worth of lore is true You know the face of a temptress Pit Viper A witch or enchantress Pit Viper With the malign
Science is truth for life Watch religion fall obsolete Science will be truth for life Technology as nature Science truth for life In Fortran tongue the
Bent double like old beggars in sacks Knock kneed and cursing or coughing like hags Men marched on sleeping some without boots Fatigue drunken deaf still
Lineage closed Dissolved in it?s birth Tragedy Prelude a balance Is a synergy of reason Malicious hope As techno atrocities Lapse their effects Associate
occasion Cellophane encased Displaying paper certificate The credit years of service A tool of central enterprises The early hope for permanence The