The Unwritten

The times of wonder have gone

We hold on - the wise women drugged

Into submission.

Forensic psychology reveals traces

Of long-forgotten haunted faces

Which, like Munch's lurid, silent scream,

Degenerate into nightmaredream.

Or, so it seems.

Meanwhile, in population centres,

Desire, in all its lurid manifestations,

Falls into disuse,

All is as it was before:

Footsteps in the snow on

A flat, grey concrete floor:

Krema I at Auschwitz

Eminently productive

340 corpses burned every 24 hours

This was indeed progress of the sort required

Arbeit macht frei

Weaponising the common man and woman

Is an act of genius

Monsters exist

But much more dangerous are the common men and woman

Ready and able to act without question.

Yes, plenty of those in our nation.


Image result for Auschwitz

◄ A Sufi Saint contemplates his imminent dissolution

The Poetry Business ►


No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message