Die Blutiger Exaktheit

Die Blutiger Exaktheit

You were a monster of savagery,

A painter of monstrosity;

The flames of the church-towers –

Crisper than with the flowers -

And the fading pleas of their bells,

Against the siege of shells

Faltered to a mute pleasure

By your evil measure.

You were a blood-painted puppet,

A servant to the corrupted pundit;

Not death, not anguish

Through you would swish;

Your eyes scorned each landscape

To draw a new blood-lake shape.

Dove’s pedals

Melted against medals.

You were the caging beast

Who starved to feast.

The camp were you resigned to.

But then there woke the time

When truth rode through to chime,

In tears

Your dead fears

Spread to conquer you.

Once combat’s aggravation,

Had caught you in weeping motion.

Those tears rolled once more,

Along the innocents’ cheek shore.

The Jew, the German,

What difference?

The tear stains either cheek,

In moments when meek.

Your old perversity is faded,

And in death you long to be shaded

For your crimes are irreplaceable;

So now the bullet of the mechanism which once you served splits through your heart;

You are amidst the legions of your slain.