THROUGH THESE HALLS

In these sepulchers of white-washed shame,

Is it us, or they, who are to blame?

Magnificent buildings of stone so white,

Holding assemblies to the hordes of night,

A city on a hill should cast its rays,

Of hope, and love, and comforting ways,

Instead, our heaps of limestone halls,

Emit stench and perversion and screaming calls,

Corrosive evil fills our chambers of bone,

Mausoleums of white – lying to us while we moan,

Can you hear the cries – the People’s wail?

The solemn dirge as we all fail?

A blueprint established for us to follow,

Burned, torn, and scattered in the winds to blow,

Must we all pass by these shameful walls?

What will they speak when history calls?

PTR July 27, 29, 2011