50 dead- Post a slogan

To My New Zealandness.
A piece of you broke off and festered
deciding not to talk to the rest of you
Becoming bitter and hardened through

Still celebrating the dead heroes of past wars
Bathing in the bagpiped nostalgia, hate looking
The predictable flavor of the anzac cookie
pride taste lingering in the mouth

Lest we forget you say
But you weren't even there on the day

So gone from the notion of love
the notion of intolerance left unsaid and tame
Terror became the whole aim to the cricket game
and 50 immigrant Islamic new Zealanders died today

Killed for encroaching on an intolerance
that has grown muscles in the darkness from the worst
Sound bite prejudice rattling through the commoners
No none of you pulled the trigger that way

Lest we forget you say
But you weren't there on the day

And when they bought in the devil
to do the handy work of evil
Silence was your answer quite glum
Yet their bigotry still hummed

Hummed up in the hills and in the minds of children
through the mouths of haters and the little buildings
to the sports fields and supermarket checkouts
But just deny that humm now butter wouldn't melt

Until the next massacre war jaw growls
opens teeth nashing, breath purely foul