Waste Land
The waste land looms in the litany
The wind makes coming from
The eyeless sockets of dead buildings
Charred by the fire of sudden grief
Brinking the undrained swamp of history.
Smell the cordite
Fuming across the sky
In sinister bands of clouds
And still upon the shore
Crawling from the limp and placcid water
Comes the crippled ungospled towards
A false Jerusalem.
The hollow sounds of hollow men
Blows north to south and back again
Behold the rising in the east
A new sun
On a spiders web of light
The west is hypnotized
Wearied by its many flight
Its frazzeled brain become bedazzled
Over the thing that was the puzzle
Of myth breakers and king makers
Giving rise to the hollow sound
Vapid cheer
That knows the end is near
But cannot vacate the fired citadels
Chained to the charcoal memory
Of a throbbing Jerusalem.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
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