Saturday, June 03, 2017

New Masters of Birmingham,

In Loving Memory of the Manchester's victim and others; 
May the Love blow softly again.

The new masters of the borough,
Are, in a cold blood,
introducing, the Almighty -God,
 (In their way.)
To the schools'  boys and girls
Of the metropolitan city.
To take over, or set sail,
 for the holy mission,
 To London, Manchester,
Or Rome-
And let the rusted- blade,
 of the medieval swords-
Go sheen, with the blood.

Swords are  held in,
 The resurrected heads,
Wrapped and blessed with,
 A strongly worded message of Hell 
Scribed with the flames of wrath,
The first constitution of the city of  Abaddon

Round One

On the London Bridge,
where aftermath the great war,
T.S Eliot saw  in the first episode,
 'Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge,
so many'
His concern was:
 'He had no thought death had undone so many? '
Until before the clock -struck ten,
 And passed by a colored track of this era,
driven by the disciple,
of the ruthless Masters -
-mowing Londoners-
In the sight of the-
 Scotland Yard whose men,
  were only  equipped,
 For the dirty battles
In the heart of London                                                
with matchless clubs.

Round Two. (Hope never happens.)



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