A Dirge for Destruction
How goes it in our fair land – our great America?
The slant of evening evoking a wistful sigh
A Zenobia-visage across the color speckled landscape
The powerful anodyne of romantic altruism planted
Somewhere worlds away taut horror spills its blood
And a pining for the sight of his Pennsylvania red barn
Crying hysterical weeping for eternity and her child ripped from life
Two strangers fighting each other for peace and blood soaked irony
Each side trembling before the machinery of confusion masking greed
The public gardens here are blooming with indifference
Craning our necks along the collar ridge to look away with constricted faces
An olive tree of hate growing, branches spreading with boldness out the shadows
One weeping for the romance of a warehouse in the sky and crates of theocracy
Another for Madison Avenue in a desert with a whiskey soaked Hungarian waltz
Differences lead to the same ballroom and the same slow dance
It’s playing the hymn of reality from Harvard to the daisychain grave
Do you remember November and Moscow?
(Without the apricot-tinged nostalgia?)
The slant of evening evoking a wistful sigh
A Zenobia-visage across the color speckled landscape
The powerful anodyne of romantic altruism planted
Somewhere worlds away taut horror spills its blood
And a pining for the sight of his Pennsylvania red barn
Crying hysterical weeping for eternity and her child ripped from life
Two strangers fighting each other for peace and blood soaked irony
Each side trembling before the machinery of confusion masking greed
The public gardens here are blooming with indifference
Craning our necks along the collar ridge to look away with constricted faces
An olive tree of hate growing, branches spreading with boldness out the shadows
One weeping for the romance of a warehouse in the sky and crates of theocracy
Another for Madison Avenue in a desert with a whiskey soaked Hungarian waltz
Differences lead to the same ballroom and the same slow dance
It’s playing the hymn of reality from Harvard to the daisychain grave
Do you remember November and Moscow?
(Without the apricot-tinged nostalgia?)
posted by ... at 2:31 AM
3 Comments:
and can we stop them- the war hungry ignorant powermongers seeking more than romance in the kill?
love the way you weave in the references, and the carefully chosen imagery.
and does history make a difference- even if they do remember?
thought this was a masterpiece ... exquisitely put together, it was wonderful to read ...
inkblot - The war hungry powermongers have different motives for subjugation. I think history makes a difference to the rational set of the populace. It's just that chamber of commerce meetings and other colloquial ephemera keep interfering.
prerona - Thank you for those high and kind words. Much appreciated.
Jon - My pleasure. A man doesn't see Betty Rubble everyday, you know! Thanks for dropping in.
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