A Child-Murderer Poem by John Thorkild Ellison
A Child-Murderer
The man who strangles babies
Looks just like me or you,
But organises Sunday outings
To the Chocolate Factories of Death.
No nipples in the bud for him,
But a sudden avalanche in the glasshouse of his brain
Destroys sweet children:
Slender virgins weep at the blond arithmetic of violence.
Where, you may ask, is God's mercy?
Say your prayers -
The man who strangles babies does not know.
... You have chosen very sharp of subject for a poem... to murderer there is not category...10.. All best, Tsira
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/20/2024 1:30:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
You tackle the very serious. I would love to pick your brain over one of the lines. Perhaps one cup of coffee wasn't enough this morning. Keep writing!