Don't burn the flag. Wash it!
This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO
Rats are weeping in the guttersBetween the two rivers. The bone-dry air is motionlessAnd the water is muted, lifeless. Mesopotamia isGoing round the bend, teetering on the edge.Citizens of this great land, caked with blood,Walk, stunned and weeping while a shadow loomsBehind an enormous object whose jaws rumble.Was it worth your capture? Your death sentence?You’ve carried out torture, murder, rape and genocide,Now there is a larger thing haunting your land and people.That enormous thing’s been sent as your executioner,But it is not God. No. It is not Allah. It is empire.And its sunburned grief of crippled beastsShall haunt you for eternity.In the world you leave, men are still filled with hateAnd horror beyond the quaking gates, summoning murder,Clambering across the wilderness, devouring children.Empire, has not, nor will it ever warble an angel’s songOr sing out in a reverent verse for mankind!It shall echo its high-pitched droning of “odium”While the rats fill their lungs with tears.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
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