Stealth Jets on Okinawa Mission

Sudden death is gliding by
Morbid messengers over nighttime city skies
With fiery tail and the doors of Hell
Cradled beneath their glossed black eyes

Dear little children,
Don't be afraid--
Your earthly beds will soon be made.
Dear little children,
Don't be afraid--
Heaven's debts are never left unpaid.

The silent shout of death's payload
A thousand laments yet untold
Gravity's rainbow with man-made eyes
No pot of gold at its end lies
Just the silent screams of a thousand souls
And a thousand muffled childrens' cries

Dear little children,
Don't you fret--
Playtime's up but you don't know yet
Dear little children,
Don't you weep--
You'll soon be hushed to your final sleep

And sleep is but 1/60th of death
The common denominator of our final breath
Impartial fractions, the product of blind-eyed toil
The poisoned seeds of history's soil

And the diameter of the bomb reaches far and wide
From the minds of men to the lash of Heaven's eye
Lines on maps made indivisible by
Makers of law and their blasphemous pride

Yours Truly -- unfortunately?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I should make note that I've referenced Yehuda Amichai's poem "The Diameter of the Bomb" in the above, and that the work above is copyright under a Creative Commons license. Yikes.