..And the Gates will be desolate…Lamentations

by Elvira

Dust sweeps the street

                                                The wind howls,

                                                Doors creek,

Echos, of no human voice,      sound


A cold shadow on the Vulture’s calls.

Once light opened its face

Now, Lamentations’   ombre  smothers                      the

            Robotical         movements of the refuse                     left, by

The Victors,                giving a synthetic sheer           to

The Phantastic Nation, once so Proud!

The left behind,

                                    Tear their hair,

As Designated Mourners                                            for

What could have been.

Once a Mighty Nation,

            All hear           Bondage,                     in thought or action.

            All stoically                 accept it as

                                    JUST PUNISHMENT                        for


And, this Victor, this Babylon: home of Alexander

                                                 Palace of Darius (Duh rey us)

                                                Symbol of Asian Splendor

                                                Curse of the Ancestors


Only booty NOT  fulfillment              by decree                     on

                                                            Devine plan

Its                    bloodied hand



Time                and      time                 and      time

For all refuse   to         learn    the       past!

And, here we are, the New Alexander

                        Stretching                    claws               under

                                    The                              guise    of

                        Freedom (yet blackened by

                                        Sluge and coinage)

Playing over Judea      in         crippled           Persia

                                                                        Bagdad           and


Eating sand, under Mazda’s hammer

Following, any little man, who wraps

                        Himself in colors or holy books

The cries will never end. And, peace can only

Be found in a solitary grave.

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