A ratio exactly furbished by fire-waving bonded bands
Descendants of the village-swarm compound on evil doers
Laughingly to burn
The hope’s to scare off shadow-casters, primates habit-shaped
Nightshades whom pressed to say within, without, are housed,
Defined as matter or as mind?
Inhibiting, inhabiting, fear’s backwoods borderlands
Stow up, put you away, divorce rescind dissever
Those mental minings nether caverns serpentine
Open to thought: bestir give light abroad formidibly
Secure the Siegfried line
Know only overtones, subtexts and deconstruction’s touch
Which on their stomachs march through hanging upside down in air
Remove old nightmares; reinstate, disport, declare
The fraught psyche the lair
There enter, sit and haggle, trouble and ado! ado!
Take up a chair and grace oneself guru
Enter go rifle, ransack, cry haloo!
And make to break anew
Late magicks, states inside, decantered in reflections
Invoked defections, alienations, interspersed and found in you
A brew’s regaled as ready, let the after-grounds so stew
To bring forth select gewgaws had as hand-held head-issues
Suffer a wit to tinker, meddle, break in and destroy
Infect and interfere, sowing skeptic septic seed, sow the joy
Of lustre beaming brazen; add a consequential coign:
Tall towered crenellations, landmark magnitudes manmade
All Alexanders all, that ban of empire underfoot
Who die so high and all, let all go-tumble, crumble, fall; for I
Am I not wonderful?
A next Iraq? nor yet; theirs is the very mode and set
Wherefore no exit
No apposite recovery for unbombing a Baghdad
Ejecting Humpty-Dumpty from The Emergency Room
Preliminary to wholesale wrack of Middle East
Intelligentsias had drawn out, gouged wrathful dragon’s teeth
Fair crenellations crack, there stews apocalyptic soup
Apotheosis of worldwide dismemberment
Of arms and the man and of the wine-dark sea
Triumphant selfhood grooms
Itself an elephantine foot-in-mouth annihilation
Come of endless stocks of plenty, and its privation
– One may not become oneself!
Look to your health; your wealth; behold The Administration!
Think you the trump has sounded, and is getting ready,
To new-clear earth again this time forever God
Who loves no limit?
That’s nonsense, init
You can also find this poem at our metanomalies blog: http://metanomalies.com/post-postmodernism/