Lockerbie

A monstrosity framed in the history of my window pane     

Weaved between its triple glaze        

As rain of murder pours down the glass,        

Terrorism is the cause of this murdered mass.           

A tree claws to a sack of death,          

As bodies explode, and their wings clip          

Falling from the wreckage,     

Of a long forgotten airship.    

Homes becomes houses as Pam Am’s nose digs,      

Sticks and stones breaking bones,     

Words could never hurt them.                          

Nothing could hurt them at all anymore,       

They're dead. 

My gutters hang a baby girl,  

bloody and unrecognisable

Face mashed by a hellish pitchfork,   

Skin torn carelessly like tights; indescribable.             

The Darwins next door melt in flames of jet fuel,      

Home engulfed in monstrous humanity,

His heinous horns and turpitude tail don’t prevail,   

Slaughtering the citizens of Lockerbie.