Of Some Mad American Empire Ii
Listen to poem:
A reapers machine
hot white harvest
bone dry land
years have been spent
driving this reapers machine
Across desolate lands
Shifting oblivion sands
Of some mad American empire
Insanity conspires in dreams dark
stark towers reach
reaching into the open sky
as ravens gather
black as murder
On top of empirical spires
Burnt out in sapphire sky
a reapers machine
dead at last
frozen rusted stance
Heliosphere novas brake
on shattered glass
shines bright glittering sun rays
Across the dry façade
Stardust fades into
blurry Dark rage
a machine built
on the damned
The last slaves of Cathode-rays
In distant insane plains
Ominous clouds gather
Flickering lighting
Deep rumbling thunder
Coming insane
Tyrannical summer dry rains
Hover over mountain ranges
Like spines bare of flesh
hot White Sands
bone white days
years has come to pass
as machines dwell
On plantation lands
derelict sterile
In these brutal times
of American madness
empires dream
Of a Reapers machine
As they scream
lost in some mad American empire
Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2021
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