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    MDMH89 New Member

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    What Makes A Cold Heart Beat?

    A reflection on Saddam Hussein's reaction to his death sentence.



    That thump,

    I felt it

    in his eyes;

    a man rendered,

    not of power,

    but fearful

    of death.



    That thump

    was the beat

    of the drum

    that plays off

    the ratta-tat-tat

    of the rifles

    from the firing

    squad.



    That thump

    was the tear

    that met the

    ground more

    intense than

    the bombs that

    meet it now.



    That thump

    was the man

    that defecates

    and urinates

    himself, full

    of shame as

    bullet meets

    heart, body

    greets warm

    desert floor.



    That thump

    was the rape

    of a mother

    from a man

    that didn't fit

    but still tore

    his way in

    despite the screams

    of her

    or her family.



    That thump

    was the rifle

    butt meeting

    the face of a

    child lodging his

    little nose into

    his little brain.



    That thump

    was the door

    being bashed

    in filling

    cups from dinner

    with blood what

    were once filled

    with water.



    That thump

    was every limb

    that was torn

    from a fathers body

    being drawn and

    quartered by

    jeeps as a

    spectacle.



    That thump

    was the

    7.62mm round

    born from an

    angry AK-47

    that caved the

    blind-folded mans

    face in, forced

    to die on

    his back.



    That thump

    was the knee

    of a mother

    hitting the ground

    as she watches

    her baby girl

    disappear beneath

    the tires, lost

    in the tracks

    and pool of

    red crushed

    bone.



    That thump

    was the newly

    made carcass

    by a bomb

    buried beneath

    the dirt a traitor

    was force to

    sit on.



    That thump

    was the table

    when it turned

    when that gavel

    met wood to

    finalize a

    much needed

    decision.



    That thump

    was his heart

    when it dropped.



    That thump

    was his brain

    when it stopped.



    That thump

    was his eyes.

    They didn't

    dilate or

    dramatically change

    on the surface.

    They clicked.



    That thump

    when he realized

    he was damned

    to die and

    hang high,

    hang dry.



    That thump

    was him watching

    himself, in his

    mind, fall with

    the crack

    his neck.

    Spineless

    he writhes and

    wobbles a bit

    before he

    fades away.



    That thump

    was the stray

    beat of

    an inhuman

    fallen leaders heart

    who thought

    he was beyond

    such things.



    That thump

    was the

    round of applause

    and cheer

    for revenge.



    That thump

    was humanization

    in fear

    in a man

    that took so

    much.



    That thump

    was the little

    he could give

    back.

    Just so they

    can take it

    away.



    Revenge.



    That thump.


    Posted By MDMH89 | Dec 12, 2006
    #1

    erikestabrook JPiC Premium VIP Member

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    lovely poem I must say seems a bit long,
    really though it was a loovely poem in all its reality,
    it was sick, cruel, as is saddam hussein so great poem for him,
    you made quite a poem, welcome here to JPIC
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    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    Yes Welcome to JPiC. Please introduce yourself via the "Members Introduction Thread", so that we can officially welcome you, JPiC style!!! Thanks!

    Painted ;)

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