Babylonian Dreams 08 – Pax Americanum

by | Nov 20, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

Molecule torn from molecule,
sentience retreats,
Water unbound
returns from separate drops.

Was it slow or swift
this re-arranging of parts?

How long the moment of dying
when hot fusion of semtex and metal
prises soul from body in a nano second,
ripping life from living,

returning us
quite unprepared for death
in a moment quicker than thought.

How long the moment of dying?
I weep for your land oh ancient queen:
to pass beneath the yoke
where the parched tongue speaks of hopes ruined,
ruin on shattered ruin,
ground broken
where palace stood
and temple held the flame of sacred life.

Flame now sacrificial,
not rising but falling,
engulfing, destroying.

Here those terraced slopes
receive the careless scatter of dark pearls
flung savage through a darker night,
dropping as the necklace is unstrung,
black pearls blossomed in fire through shrieking air.

A Queen’s bounty lost
as each bomb ruptures a myriad hopes.
Concussive force of death falling,
death exploding,
libation to gods long gone,

libation to new gods of war
whose turmoil does not cease
but pours upon the land unchecked,
fertile plains
covered in dark benediction.
Pax Americanum:
We made a desert
and we called it Peace.


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