Friday, August 30, 2013

Atlantis.

We sold it all;
the eye and mountain
symbols of naught
but the mystery
of continuous
stupidity.

I can smell
Bacon, seething
and popping in despair,
or perhaps resignation
The Empire of Poets
scattered and helpless
drowned by
neanderthal
greed.

Oh, that we
travelled
and evolved,
forged in suns,
scattered
across ten billion
nights,
drawn from sacrifice
of countless wise
to fail upon the last breath
for no less
than a convenience
and no more
than the symbol
of our Way
sullied
by faceless argonauts,
a golden fleece.

And is that thought
Despair
or is it Hope.