The Drums of War Sound Dull Poem by Little Eagle McGowan

The drums of war sound dull in the weeping canyons of grief
Where the cries of the orphaned child echoes in silences deep
As the great eagle screams angered in its own wild disbelief
At the river of blood… and unclaimed bones layin' in a heap.

Now Father sun gathers himself to rest on all manner of weak men
Reluctant to touch what reeks of the evil fermenting in death's stench…
But none is excluded from the circle, robbed of redemption dispensed
Even the stars show hope thru prison bars for remorse in recompense.

Yet they ply their trade o'er the holy ground of our souls… flags unfurled
Bequeathing to dirt that which was destined to be the wind in a whirl
See now the huddled masses crawl closer, and in a tight corner curled...
In a fatal Titanic this time to greed's tsunami, a pebble 'gainst Scylla hurled...