The End of the World

The good will of
billions,
and the bad will of half of them
twists within
the neutral vapor of missiles,
contorting like two
ugly sluts, their
masculine oil
scent filling the
wheat plains,
steel fences and
"The use of deadly force is authorized."
try and hold back the wind
rushing East out of the Rockies.
It will all be coming too fast
to our homes.

The last gasp of greed is still want.
It is a poverty of imagination,
So, in the face of that we are
forced together. To huddle
and to remember the times
before missiles and concrete
covered holes in the ground.

This is what America wants?
What our culture reaches for?
What is it we think we see through fears
greasy windows?

Is it the hurricanes eye,
the calm Zen center
in the middle of the whirl?
Or merely murder ...
to spite the heart.
To set skin and hair set on fire.

We wake and walk
we vote and we talk.
All the while
in the middle
of the celestial spheres,
the no-mans land between
an imagined paradise
and an accommodated hell.

The level tips and the
gold dust falls out ...
Good bye!
Good Buy!
The market correcting itself.
But you can't win
you cannot return again to where you have been
and you cannot escape.
In the end
the triumph lies with the
laws that create our demise,
and we have that to think about
in the in that eternal instant between
"My god, the end is happening..."
and
It happened.

G. Sotir



more by many poets at http://www.poetsagainstthewar.org/