The Devil in Disguise- Connecticut Tragedy

Quote from a Reporter:

“And today the devil came to this town . . . and this town will have to live with this . . . the rest of their lives!”

Tribute to the Fallen Children in Connecticut ~

                                                                               

The Devil in Disguise –

The devil came to our town,

He was a devil,

That was dressed like a human.

He was the son of a school teacher,

And he carried a gun.

Everyone has a pistol though,

Stashed away in their drawers to hunt,

Not everyone hunts down people,

Or turns their bullets on school-children.

Many children came down with the gun,

Falling like baby deer would,

That prance about in a little gay arc,

Until met with that human-

The hunter,

Of kids,

The devil in disguise.

The devil in disguise,

Came to Sandy Hook,

Removed that weapon that many own,

As hunters,

Hunters that shoot full grown buck.

Yet this one shot,

Gay little babes,

Looking forward to Christmas,

And how does one say to that,

The man is unstable?

He was a devil that ruined Christmas,

The son of a schoolteacher,

That shot down her babes,

A devil,

One that was in a human disguise.

Crying in the Darkness- a tribute to the Connecticut Shooting victims

~ Crying in the Darkness ~

Dark times ahead,

Of everyone in the world lies,

But those who have magic,

Give to this evil spirit.

They lift up their wands of red flame,

Which tremble beneath the fire,

That shoots straight from the owners,

To cover the wand,

Right out their hearts.

Although their hearts are bleeding,

The wands of magic from their fiery breasts,

Tremble with passion, and fire, and zeal-

No one can stop the arcs of shooting red,

As they roar to life,

And our eyes look upon the dead ones,

Gentle children that haven’t visited,

Where they still need to go,

Their future plans,

Christmas gifts,

The dreams in their breasts and their own brochures,

Of lands that are forgotten,

Never to be trod on by pattering feet,

And tiny toes-

Or lost hair ribbons from bobbing pigtails,

While the passion arcs now twist about,

In the form of linking hands,

And people praying,

And singing,

Hoping for a better way.

The future,

Holds nothing much,

But betwixt the magic in our breast,

We are able to move on,

For thankfully we shed a tear,

During a ripping crisis,

That brings a certain magic,

A certain song and movement . . .

To every single person.

We who grieve,

Who are grieving in ripping howls,

Are comforted,

By the ability to cry,

To sing and to pray,

On this cold, terribly biting winter’s night-

When all should be at rest,

But are instead-

Walking dead people.

May God be with the souls on this terrible night,

That has shed cruelty upon them,

And may the magic that we share,

Be our guide,

And the tear our song,

That will forever send out,

The message-

Of love.