Friday, February 18, 2011

Dirty Twilight Of A Faux Empire

Dancing in the fleeting twilight of an immature but decaying empire
Struggling in vain to catch a glint of the weak light in a dreary winter
Sighing as yet another slow-moving gray rainstorm settles in upon us

Ignored in the company of local strangers at their drinking and talking
Praying before a solitary place, set with unknown food
Mumbling, with no one around, after another long, hot, dirty day of work

Shuffling in another quiet line of disappointing hand-outs
Laying in a darkened room in yet another empty town
Singing unknown songs amidst a most unnaturally-quiet twilight

Drifting silently on through those many deserted settlements
Hiding among weedy croplands which will not see a harvest once again this year
Floating away above the frenzied dancers moving to the beat of the plague

Borne straight to ecstasy by their most fatal of attractions
Repelled by the sight of the old ones forced to toil in vain
Tearful as I watch all their dirty children, still at play

Grubbing in the littered twilight of a quick and dirty empire
Foraging in strange lands after being driven on once again
Awakening to early darkness not knowing where we’ve been

Held up once more by another broken wheel somewhere up ahead
Hardened by adversity yet hollowed out by our suffering
Nursed back once again merely to return to another’s battle

Scuffling over discards even before we know that they are broken
Eating lost, emaciated domestic animals because we have no food
Trying to sleep cold beneath a damaged and leaking roof

Holding on to some things only because, at one time, they held great value
Crouching in the aftermath of a shallow empire, without a plan
Hiding out for far too long in these dark places, so not fit to live

Staring at the broken glass kicked out during our crumbling downward spiral
Doubling down once again for the hungry kids still back at home
Skipping with those dirty fairies thru blockaded streets, past burned out buildings

Shuffling on with nagging, untreated injuries and worn-out, duct-taped shoes
Praying to a silent god for mercy from this mystery he keeps forcing us to see
Footsteps fading thru the emptying shadows of our once-imagined empire

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