Emotions Within the Winds of Time (Tears Cake the Dust)
This is the evening of our attrition
Caught in the vortex of an exploding star
That just won't give up the ghost
They want to be like Betelgeuse.
The shadow of the Nazarene holds Palestine in its arms
I've seen people holding limp children also in their arms.
How much will this thing hurt me?
It is myself that I must constantly think about and my children my house my mortgage my community my country, my partner, my car, my phone, my laptop, my bicycle, my etc.
How do we tally up the cost
Of the debt ceiling budget when so many lives are lost?
Cut off the heads of dandelions in the spring.
The seeds are blown on the violent winds of a scythe's swing.
Floating to an uncertain future.
To take root wherever they may land.
What of these lost tribes in Israel?
A dead sea in a dying land.
All by the settlers' hands.
And desperately, a dying Earth screams like a lost lamb
Awaiting the mother's milk or the jaws of a wolf.
Why have we failed to steward the land as a species?
Was it all because of our love for spices?
Wherewith shall the blandness of the pound of flesh be salted?
With the black blood that bleeds from Earth. It also breeds vices;
Feuling the metabolism of a rhizomatic machinic enslavement,
Starting and stopping with a coughing fit through its anus.
My comrades. What can be made of this?
We must tread more carefully than ever before.
This be the time of monsters in this foul year of the Western World.
But remember, calendars are counted differently in faraway places.
Lands exotic to me fill me with wanderlust.
I always wanted to travel the Earth and eat dust,
To see things no other mortal saw.
But I've been here all this time
Under the tutelage of the law.
Enter the steppe pyramid prison
Slave for your wages, peasant!
My little pistol just goes pew! pew!
Doesn't do a whole lot to help my situation.
I cannot speak. I am not eloquent.
I've been waiting for the spirit of the lord to compel me to explain it:
The good news that the end of this world (as we knew it) is nigh!
We are but grains of salt like a mote in a dead god's eye.
Galaxies like grains of sand speaking the end times gospel.
Invertebrates keeping the score for the future fossil record.
It appears that we have destroyed ourselves before.
But the people, complacent in their hubris, deftly ignored
The warnings of grand cycles of death and rebirth.
Now, through our lack of enlightenment, we grovel
To graybeard gods for our sweet lives' salvation
before we resort to cannibalism in our radiated hovels.
We will feel humbled and deterred for ever again reaching beyond our station.
We will erect mighty laws and regulations against technologies.
We will find a new mode of production under a new world
Free of money, class, and state until the rise of new war lords
To practice wasteland enslavement.
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