Tuesday, February 12, 2013

To The Renegade



O wanted man with a price on your head,
You know too much, this is not a mere game,
The bullets are real, the targets are dead,
Fled love and forgiveness  when revenge came.
War craft and hubris cannot withstand
Corrupt injustice's spreading decay,
Offended you hide, your guns close to hand,
peace, sweet sleep a salvation away.
Wanted dead by death squad powers of state,
All bound by death's fear, in drones do they trust,
Deserted by all but your own private hate,
born of righteous indignation and lust.
God's grace is greater than good mixed with sin,
Refuge His mercy, let Him draw you in.





2 comments:

  1. A sonnet! The line "Deserted by all but your own private hate" connects with me. It reminds me of one of today's news stories.

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  2. Yes, a news story prompted the poem and lately I am exploring the sonnet as a form. I'm wondering if I can express poetry within it.

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