New Year's Eve

[Guest Xradion]

        *This is a poem I wrote a while ago (not on New Year's Eve, however) contemplating the tragic events of 2001 and our tragic response to those events. I hope you like it.*

 

 

 

An old man

Sitting alone on a bench

Stares with empty eyes

Into the pale sky.

 

He is blind, but

He has seen towers crumble

And genocide and

Suicide bombers.

 

"Retaliation," a word

That sounds synonymous

With vengeance and revenge.

 

And once again,

The blood of children

Runs through the

Streets.

 

And bombs fall

As talks of eradication

Of our enemies continue.

The clock strikes twelve

And all that the old man wants

Is peace.

 

But none of that,

As fireworks explode overhead

Like bombs on foreign soil

And champagne corks are popped

And the blood spills

From its vessel.

 

And the old man wonders:

When will it all end?

And just then, a

Newborn infant holding

A revolver pops him in the head.

 

And sand slips out

Of the old man’s head,

As he disintegrates into dust.

And blows away in the wind.

 

 

 

 

 

Xradion,

The Horny Druid,

Scholar of the Ancient Arts,

Holder of the Eye of Odin.

 

"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."

-Wallace Stevens

 

"When at home, do as the Homans do." –Xradion