Chips
Here is where millions of people died.
And this is how crowds were crucified.
This is the prison, cold and damp.
Here's the electrode. Here's the clamp.
This is the land of broken lips.
Still, have some chips.
Here is the blood, after the cull.
Here is the bullet in the skull.
This is the place where skin was flayed.
Here is the pin from the slow grenade.
This is the room where they worked the whips.
Still, have some chips.
This is the job. It was too obscene
To be cured by reading a magazine.
And this is the mill with human grist.
This is the pulp, and that is the fist.
This was life, before its eclipse.
Still, have some chips.
*****Here's the spud, the potater.
*****Here's the proof, the data.
*****The scientist says to the waiter:
*****No cheese, and please, no grater.
*****Bring me some chips.
Because here is where brains were spilt.
Here is what's left of guilt.
Here is the heat, here is the scorcher.
Here is the scene of careless torture.
Here they were torn to strips.
Still, have some chips.
