That still air holding no side –
just an innocent bystander:
as one with so many sightless eyes –
senseless to the deed,
railing across the sky’s simplicity
as the bloody butchers window.
The world is made-up of half-truths
and half-truths that dissolve –
Jacob’s ladder, there, just left
unattended seeming intertwined
in a moment – the toss of a coin:
the flick of a finger.
Between life and the alternative.
In a single frozen moment
sucked out from the heavens
and casted down to hell.
Not even the simple dream to stride
the heavens as pantheon.
As the sunflowers’ face of innocence
look bewildered seeing this scene.
Holding a quintillion quintillion of seed
each a single mass-of-hope
Each a universal day.
Drowned out by the bloody sky’s.
Marbled voice and shouldest destroy
them which destroy the earth.
In this corner of the world, this world,
this microcosm of the world
From some bland earthy paradise.
To an amazing stunning
Strangely appealingly hellish image.
The stench – drowning –
If Hieronymus Bosch’s eye could
have caught: that vision!
to ‘The Seven Deadly Sins
and the Four Last Things.’
This inconceivable allegory
of what is to come or what we are
to become. And how close is perdition?