Poetry

Still The Angels Died

By 3rd November 2006December 9th, 2019No Comments

Two Gods, a province they divide.
For God, Queen and Ulster.
The loud one has always cried.

The other is quiet with a face full of hair.
Uniting the Ireland by terror, twisting the political word is his flare.

Their followers to them flock in masses.
Priests, Teachers and Doctors but mostly the working classes.

The loud God yells “this land is ours.” His followers scream in support.
On fresh graves are bunches and bouquets of flowers. Followers of this God with death do cavort.

The Quiet God has an enemy, he’s decided.
The loud God and his followers are now derided.
For to unite this land he must have none.
With this in mind foul deeds and death are done.

Enters now the third God, Westminster.
This God is just and aiding and not at all sinister.
He sends his angels the rival Gods to divide.
This God has got it wrong, civil rights has lied.

The Angels died.

“No surrender” the loud God screams.
One Ulster and one Queen are all the loud God dreams
Now the followers of green and gold do not get older.
His followers in defence set forth with death and confidence, bolder.

Still the Angels died.

The Angels of Westminster in too many ways died.
The loud God and his people bowed and sighed.
The quiet God tricked, lied, killed and maimed.
Both wanted peace they said but they each other blamed.

Still the Angels died.

The quiet God struck Westminster at home many times.
The land of liberty and peace sent the quiet God all its dimes
Innocence and peace he devoured, his hunger he could not quell.
The God Westminster sent more Angels to this hell.

Still the Angels died.

With hearts of Lions, souls of steel and a ready smile.
For peace and safety of others they would do that extra mile.
No matter that each tempting cup put within reach.
Would conceal broken glass or be half filled with bleach.

Still the Angels died.

So what, if on seeing an Angel smile children and adults spat.
People young and old abused us as with their injured we calmly sat.
The men folk, cowards to a gene.
Would never face us, but killed Angels without being seen.

Still Angels died.

Angels are still dying for these three Gods, slowly but surely.

Lee Massey

Author Lee Massey

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