Seen and destroyed like old Carthage,
Returned to dust like Roman ruins—
Greek temples have risen and long fallen,
Iraq is a wasteland, Mesopotamia a memory—
These are the “cradles” of civilization, home of the original tribe—
There is no home here, only cats in the rain—
Whom the gods destroy in the millions,
But there a billion soldiers too many,
Taken and left, right and wrong, Gods up and down the golden stair,
Angels who sing of mercy—
There are no gods; they know that—
Know but do not see—
The gods waiting in the temple,
Shadows of ghosts on the wall—
Chinese gangs roaming the streets, children loitering in halls—
Gods of thunder and rain and hail,
The weather in other words—
A billion souls will not die before the next renaissance—
A new god will be born like always,
Hail To The Chief will be sung
In the spring like always—
Children sit on toilets in safety,
Mothers run home to forbidden lovers,
Fathers run from mothers who have children’s faces
So machine-like towards eternity—
Whom the Gods would destroy have souls,
You can visit them in the hospital—
Where the Jews wait behind their barbwire masks and machine guns—
The robots, slaves and soldiers of a new world—
The ideas of Stalin are history ready-made
To turn over in their shallow watery graves like Indonesia,
A Marcel Duchamp project,
a whole civilization drowned like Australia,
Underwater for centuries,
So great the flood Noah abandons ship—
Jonah eats his whale for lunch
and we walk Eve back to her garden
Where she can eat apples to her fill
And get fat like her mother,
Though she would insist her mother was a beauty till the end—
It is the end, destroyed like old Carthage
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Lauren J Barnhart
Steve Klingaman
Hayley Rose
Blacklilly89
Ingrid Ricks
Cedar Burnett
Salon.com
Comments
Thanks you.
You researched
`
I discovered a book - by Geoff Butler.
I discovered his work in` Bear River.
Bear River is in Nova Scotia, Canada.
`
The Art Of War - Painting It Out Of The Picture.
`
Who Says Chivalry is Dead. There's a painting.
Not shown.
There is an element of glory in the romantic, nostalgic view of war (perhaps by those who have never been in wars) that to do with personal bravery in the face of the enemy`
With the valiant fight against injustice and evil`
and defense of the weak. At least in this view
the sole-individual has some significance.
What room is there`
in the face of the enemy
if the enemy is unknown
and distant
and whose sword is an
awesome technology gone
`
astray?
`
When the gauntlet is thrown to be more accurate, computed`
turned and pushed - no amount of bravery will have the slightest`
`
effect.
It would make more sense
to charge at those windmills.