It comes to nothing
in the first few trickling seconds of this new day
(cuz don’t you know that time is a river, you go with the flow)

I’m spinning, streaking, blinking
like a cosmonaut who comes untethered
streaming, screaming in re-entry
flaring out and bursting into flames
a shooting star for you to wish upon
(I’m coming home… this is my home…)

Wherefore does the wisdom of this era
wither like the pale petals of cherry blossoms?
in the gardens of this imperial capital
in the blinding heat of this oppressive cloud cover
this baking, sulfuric atmosphere
(there will come soft rains… to wash the shadow stains…
and cleanse this leukemic blight
this sterilizing star fury
unleashed upon this earth
Forgive us, Father, we know not what we do…)

What did we learn, as the threads of fate
spun, unraveled, twisted, scattered?
unwind like a failing watch
undone like a spool of cassette tape
wasted, tangled and warped

What message does Revere
carry through this dreary blear?
This aforementioned time
this calm before the revolution
(it will not be televised, it will not be blogged
it will not be captured on your webcam or your cell phone
it is not Wi-fi enabled or Bluetooth aware
it will not be QAed nor protocoled, not redacted for purposes of national security nor HIPAA compliant…)

The lawyers will be the first up against the wall
The politicians second
The CEOs and board of directors next
and then the marketers, then sales
the sycophants and the fellators
the thuggi and the ass-kissers

How you like this kind of justice, mutha-fucka?
and the rotting corpse of the Republic moulders
in the mosquito filled, malaria infested swamps
this hurricane-swept devastation
this City that is No More

We taste this sweet ichor
like blood red wine
this fine, final moment
undone, unfurled

This song of the 3,000 and still counting
forsaken in this desert land
and the women and children slaughtered like cattle
the blood upon the streets, the blood upon our hands
in the shadows of Babylon
in this Land between Two Rivers
and eye for an eye
and it doesn’t matter whose eye

This song of the 3,000 and still counting
as this generation is re-deployed and liquidated
meat through a grinder
with a goddamn monkey cranking that handle

Do you hear the voices singing?
The angry voice of Justice come crashing down upon your head?
Will you be lynched like a bandit in Coahuila y Tejas?
Or shot in the face by the VP?

We sing a song of unending war
the war of the 50 states
the white and the blue splattered with red
the blood of the innocents
while the guilty leer from their windows
laughing all the way to the bank
Death swings her scythe like a farmer reaping grain

In this time of forgotten dreams
in this day of “by any means”
and every man for himself
and in this hour of when Justice must be dealt!

Do you hear that clamor and that roar?
In the rockets red glare as the eagle soars
The barbarians are here now knocking at your door
The Vandals have come to sack the city
The Ostrogoths are crying for your blood

The darkness is cometh, the darkness draws near
this blind and sweltering darkness
like a dragon’s shadow hiding the light of the sun

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

All summer in a day,
in this sweet and blessed hour
the clouds will part, and this corrosive rain will end
no more shall be
the weight of the crushing sky
nor the suffocating heat that melts even lead
and we will glimpse the Sun
but for one hour
at 3 p.m. Eastern Standard Time or 2 p.m. Central
tune in to see the next episode
commercial-free in 1080p and THX surround sound where available

Be ready for it, o my brothers, o my sisters
when the curtain of the sanctuary shall be torn in two
and the earth shall quake, and the rocks shall be split

Verily, I tell you, the hour is coming, and is now here!