Unrepentent? As far as we know.
His robe of black’s become his cell.
It holds a horror words can’t tell.
“How could I fool myself so long,
and drag my country into wrong?”
“How? You took our lies!” scream fiends in hell.
“And cut off countless children’s lives.
Your foulest deeds still receive praise,
whatever’s vile becomes a craze.
They call you ‘Justice William Brennen,’
but now you stand right next to Lenin.
Stalin, Mao, Hitler too,
such bloody colleagues are your due.
Oh, what a nice guy, weren’t you then?
Yet you ran Dachau again.
Millions, thanks to you, have died,
dragged from wombs--’twas genocide.
Yet you offed in Freedom’s name,
our lie that won you quenchless shame.
Ax killers, rapists, pedophiles too,
they scramble to get clear of you.
For up ahead the Great White Throne
will seal your doom--you’ll reap what’s sown.
‘Fetuses’ wait in God’s Court,
plaintiffs to your ‘Be free! Abort!’
They seek the fool who said, ‘Death, rule!’
‘To others, kind, to us--most cruel!
What monster birthed this fell creature,
who trampled justice without fear? ‘
You threw the Bible out like trash.
Good work, sir--receive the lash!
Cunanan? He’s nothing here.
It’s your name, sir, that has no peer.”
Herod’s work was child’s play.
You slew three thousand every day.
Your reign of terror--so long in years--
brings to your offspring heartfelt tears.
Their plaudits, President on down,
extol the judge of high renown.
‘Great Man,’ ‘Warm friend,’ and so ‘Unique’--
you’re Genghis Khan with a boutique.
Dress the issue right, just so,
and murder struts in chic pink bow.
The latest fashion cut in law
can revoke all the Pilgrims saw.
No God, no Bible, prayer, no Ten,
no morals implied or written.
Just “Easy does it! Do your thing!’--
Whore Liberty takes Bundy’s fling.
You opened floodgates in the land,
so crime was freed to raise its hand.
You stole our heritage at hell’s behest,
as Ike, your patron, once confessed,
‘Only two mistakes I made:
Warren, Brennen,’ for which all paid.
Consensus is Brennan goes first,
the case that heads the list is worst.
And what condemns him most of all?
Unmothered babes whose numbers pall.
A sea of slain, his victims stand
and cry to God on His right hand.
Sick and wounded, in staggering pride,
a nation’s hell-bent with infanticide.
This is the misery we all are in,
by apathy or selfish choice.
When the Dark Age kicks in our door,
we’ve met ourselves, the predator.
What we cast forth on the dark wave
has now returned to dig our grave.
We all must suffer in this land,
some more, some less, some flee--if can.
We made this bed, we lie in it,
a condo-coffin, a cobra pit.
Reading this, if conscience hurts,
and you see what Right asserts,
why deny guilt till the end?
There’s no gain where Wrong must go--
that place the William Brennans know.
You’re still alive, you might still bend.
The truth, to save, might first offend.
Turn Godward, to Christ the scriptures
prove, regain your stolen worth
that sins remove.
Profits up? Write off slave pain.
Hitting Wilson 432’s,
global tycoons dominate news.
Robber barons, they once were called,
in naive times when vice appalled.
Golden Age, it’s passed us by,
we’ve settled for a gaudy lie.
Behind the glitz and show-biz sheen,
even Disney warps obscene.
Trump can build his towers higher,
they will all fall on a pyre.
Satan, Gaea, they’re on top,
right with Pepsi’s diet pop.
Jackson, Madonna, Doggy-Dogg--
there’s no bottom to this stinking bog.
Grabbing drugs and sex and booze,
our youth have only life to lose.
They’ve been told they’re can’t know right,
they so confused, they rebel, fight.
Why go work if there’s no goal?
If there’s no meaning, there’s no role.
Why not Bob loves Bob, not Jill??
And for the squares, an abortion pill?
Why not break in, rob and shoot?
There’s nothing like a little loot.
Unless your gig is suicide,
you’re going along for the ride.
The Supreme Court will take your case,
to drum up support for what’s base.
They’re gangsta rappers, really cool,
they’ve got some guards, a gorgeous pool.
That caution tape strung round all them?
Just in case God gets to them.
They threw Him out of public school,
the ACLU won that duel.
But He still has his fanatics,
Christians who don’t mind the licks.
Slap on fines, they still come back,
to the mills that stuff a sack
with baby parts sucked out of Mom,
as Patty Murray shakes her big pom pon.
It’s worse than words, mere words can tell,
you have to be there and share hell.
