Hell Has No Heart
By Tim Jaffa
I lay there, looking at a leaf,
a dog was up to mischief,
the chief had apprehended a theif,
whose mistaken belief,
in crime had caused so much grief,
it soured the beef,
but it was not enough to overthrow the wheels of the capitalist machine as it
ground the downtrodden into dust in the wind.
Copyright © 2002; Irish Poetry Explosion. All Rights Reserved.