The Myth of Laureled Paradise
A living corpse breathes on the bed
Light and Death cool the sweat
Beading on the forehead of blank
Centuries heeding on greed and a
Invisible monster numbered in the book
Of souls misting in the laughter of science
Come now the voices
Coo and be reborn into the bleeding
Tapestry of blood and violence
Sex and death pulse from the atom
Bombs and the makers of worlds destroy
The color like lead throats choking
On the beauty of a balmy window soothing
The pain in psalms ruptures butterflies and bees
In the breeze of yellow summer lying in haze
White sheets wrapped in murders’ dingy
Rooms fading windows lust stabbing
Each heartbeat a vision of nothing
-ness and the lyric of one more soft
meal and the murmur of crowds chanting
the name of digital songs evoking Gods
dead in the commerce of equations stocks
falling in the channels of streets babbling
from scabs of dreams dry and broken the
bread is poisoned words empty cupboards
crumbed with the myth of laurelled paradise…
Copyright © Alex Roth | Year Posted 2013
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