When the world sleeps
from inky darkness deep
spirits emerge to creep
and softly begin to weep
awakening the ghosts of the dead
wispy forms, eyes smoldering red
floating silently to approach my bed
and begin a dance around the head
startling me from blissful slumber
with stomping feet and cracking thunder
to have me walk and follow them in wonder
leading me to land of death and plunder
rockets streak and bulldozers stomp
men with careless machine guns romp
looking for young or old to tromp
with flamboyant show of bravery and pomp
a bloody theater of foreign intrusion
orchestrated show of world collusion
of power, hate and direct elimination
of people, culture- a radical manifestation
I walked through streets of charred remains
blown body bits and bloody drains
hungry children, mothers tear stained
to steady drizzle of bullets rained
something inside me withered and died
and my spirit in inky darkness cried
following the line of ghosts to decide
on the next slumbering person they spied!
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