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Uncle Sam

I can hear an evil wind ablowing And it sings a hair raising tune It says its wants to pick your bones and it'll be here real soon.

I can hear an evil wind ahowling And its says it wants some more Its coming fast, from afar Because the devils at your door

I can hear an evil wind ASCREAMING His name is uncle sam. His eyes all aglow with nuclear fire from below and at his back, dont you ever relax Ten million demons don't you know.

I can hear an evil wind aroaring Hungry for your blood Shouting evil, while out murdering and awhoring out to rape your daughters and sons.

I can hear an evil wind ablowing While the hypnotized beg for more And chanting like the possessed 100 million souls.

In the pit upon the potomac, In the abyss, they rule. They'll take it all, or murder us all And play the world for fools.

I can hear an evil wind ablowing Somewhere not too far It sounds like whistling past the graveyard. It sounds like the name at the end of that book.

Be ye good, and pray. The devil roams this world once more. Loosed for a time and gone.

And then the reckoning, the trumpets singing

"Something wicked this way come."

I can hear an evil wind ablowing And it sings a hair raising tune It says its wants to pick your bones and it'll be here real soon. I can hear an evil wind ahowling And its says it wants some more Its coming fast, from afar Because the devils at your door I can hear an evil wind ASCREAMING His name is uncle sam. His eyes all aglow with nuclear fire from below and at his back, dont you ever relax Ten million demons don't you know. I can hear an evil wind aroaring Hungry for your blood Shouting evil, while out murdering and awhoring out to rape your daughters and sons. I can hear an evil wind ablowing While the hypnotized beg for more And chanting like the possessed 100 million souls. In the pit upon the potomac, In the abyss, they rule. They'll take it all, or murder us all And play the world for fools. I can hear an evil wind ablowing Somewhere not too far It sounds like whistling past the graveyard. It sounds like the name at the end of that book. Be ye good, and pray. The devil roams this world once more. Loosed for a time and gone. And then the reckoning, the trumpets singing "Something wicked this way come."

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[–] • 1 pt

It's painful to try to read this poem, the meter is so broken and the lines so malformed. Some of the imagery is fair, although excessively melodramatic. It seems to be anti-American propaganda, written in a pseudo-American hillbilly dialect.

[–] • 0 pt

although excessively melodramatic.

Thats like 90% of what I write. Or sappy poems about some flavor of hope.