Jonestown: The place of slaughter

909 died on the 18th

Of November, their

Cries recorded as their

Shepard spoke to them

To their deaths

Of a poisoned cup.


In the background,

The death cries and wails

Of infants and children

Are heard as the

Cyanide takes control of

Their little bodies and

Strips them of all that they are.


Mothers scream, souls tortured,

As the dead lay within their arms.


Loved ones try to hold on,

Willing them to live and

Survive, but to no avail.


A father watches as

His wife injects poison

Into their son; watches

As he dies, then grabs

And holds her as her life leaves.


A husband lays his wife,

Next to the ones she

Gave up her life for.


All around, lay the bodies

Of mother, fathers;

Grandmothers and grandfather,

Sons and daughters,

As if they were asleep…

But poison, still alive,

Froths at their mouths.


A mile away, gunfire

Sounds out at an airstrip

Of fleeing peoples, taking

Refuge in the shield of

A savior congressman,

Only to have five of them

And their savior die on their

Saving path.


And as we, students of

Religion, watch in horror

And dropping hearts,

Sniffling and hidden tears

Are heard around the

Darkened room.


Weeping openly, I

Close my eyes,

For I cannot bear to look

At the bodies;

At the murdered, and know

That while they suffered,

Their pious Father,

Shot himself in the head;

The death of coward.


Welcome to the town,

Where paradise was

Promised from the lips

Of a paranoid man.


Welcome to Jonestown.

The End

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