ANGELS OF DEATH

By the grave of Dan, Duke and Don

We stand and stare and mourn

And recall the tale of the loss

Of our dear illustrious sons

Who died in the hands

Of three hideous devils,

 With faces like that of angels.

The first wicked beast,

Bore the name Sex,

And went to Dan as a sweet

Gentle evening breeze,

He left him with a gift:

A harmless longing for skirts,

That landed dear Dan in the hands

Of dirty, despicable lasses,

Until he got sick and thin

And drew his last breathe.

The Second monster

Whose name was Money

Visited Don in his needy moments,

And turned him into a monument

A hunter of silver and diamond.

Whose only goal was gold

In whose eyes, God, and laws

Had neither weight nor form

He gambled away his soul

Betted away his dear life.

Worked himself to stupor

Ventured into every venture,

Started as a coin-hungry hustler

And ended as a roadside robber.

The last devil,

Was no devil at all

In Duke’s youthful eyes

But a friend in times

Of need and great pains,

Its name was Drugs

A savior, and a lord

He took away Duke’s sorrows

With his dreams and tomorrows

And gave him a new life

Of cracks and pots and hems,

Which cracked and marred him

And left him drained and lifeless.