Another poem culled from the past (with updated links)...
O spindling reason, close thy soiled and gruesome jaw’s
Surging rationale like a thimble of water to thirst;
We’ve no blood left to drip our cheerless dreams!
Dreadful is our cresting obsession with greed,
Horrible is our pale service to the lords of death
And monstrous our empire’s approaching fury!
Horrible is our pale service to the lords of death
And monstrous our empire’s approaching fury!
The waters flow with the slake of our wickedness
And these vile works speed the thunderous fortunes
Of the sacred beasts come to change what we would not...
And these vile works speed the thunderous fortunes
Of the sacred beasts come to change what we would not...
O why can’t we see that our indifference to rigid awe
Has the world’s doorways strangled with skeletons
And unearthed the creatures quivering wings?
Has the world’s doorways strangled with skeletons
And unearthed the creatures quivering wings?
Like a mother in the shadow of night we can, if we choose,
Erect a grand temple from out of our bosomed courage
And quell this; our trembling loam of mounting death!
And quell this; our trembling loam of mounting death!
