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…