Headline Dec 18, 2014/ ''' MOURNING '''

''' MOURNING '''

O ''  Dec 16,   -what fate yee bring?
to these tiny, tiny angels  -all set to  sprouting wings.

Whose summons are these, that your hands do hold?
not the children surely, for they are all, in angels  fold. 

From the sleep just torn,  by all  mother's ferns,
so  dreamt and scored   - of all worldly concerns.

It is now just 7,   -as all satchels swing-
all home work done, and all fun to the fling.

All rickety bongs, all  meshing  grins,
go sit up straight in  the deathly trims.

Go  ''goodbye mom''   -I catch thee noon,
all buddies wait, for this  coming  swoon.

So, the tale unfolds,  and with death in  stalk.
the  Angels  shiver and and to the Lord they dart.

''These little ones, My Lord,   have seen no shore,
they have seen no love, and no evil-tale to bore.''

That fat little one there, is just so full of naught.
And that thin little one, here, has a approaching birthday froth.

Why blow them to bits, and why shoot them in the heart?,
they are just so innocent,  and have just lived  in fits and start.

From these  136  deaths?  and with over a hundred to maim,
the fair will just ask,....... what has the Lord to gain and game?

The hour did strike, as the gunfire grew,
the angels screamed, and the hell began to brew.

The heavens stirred, the mothers screamed and wailed,
the Angels wept and set all things to,.... veil.

Whose limb is this, and that hand and fingers too?
whose lunch is this,  -in all this messy,  bloody, ooze

Whose blazer is that,  and whose curls, all these?
whose clips are these, and this mascot to tease. 

By my side I wept,  and screamed and asked?
what mercy has thee,........ in suffering so vast?

No answer came,.... as the darkness grew.
from their  pinafores and frocks..... all angels flew.

To the mourn, -I returned, so dithering and.....so swayed,
the justice in this world, I reasoned,   is but a bale of dried up hay-

O'' students way above, do come by here,...  some day-
and then tell us all, just what the scarecrows did say.

This is just so wrong, and  this is just  so shorn-
in this hour of utter darkness, I...   feel so hellish torn. 

By your graves... we all will stand, and say the prayer too,
And then wipe the many tears, and send  all our  !WOW! to you

TO YOUR PARENTS O'' departed angels.......what can I. or is to say?
so torn......., so shorn,..... so bitter, BUT I live to fight,..... another day!

''' Anon '''

!WOW!  The World Students Society Computers-Internet-Wireless  and the students from the whole world deeply mourn. And so does the whole world

'''Good Night and God Bless

SAM Daily Times - the Voice of the Voiceless


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