Friday, 20 November 2015

What rough beast, its hour come at last, slouches towards Washington to be sworn?

(With abject apologies to WiIlliam Butler Yeats)

Tell me, kind kindred,
If you can, or if you will
What rough Beast
Did we invite
To our Feast?

What shadow flight of delight,
What ritual of doubt
Did we drown
Before Heaven's Throne?

What fell apart?
Was it our hope,
Or just the courage
Of our sickly heart?

Did we dry our
Tears with a sweet,
Sweet needle
Or a vial of pills?

Tell me, kind kindred,
What have we loosed
Upon the world?

What lazy dreamer
Invented these
Vapid toys
For men of war
Or murdering boys:
Exploding drones
Nanotech soldiers
And vampire-clones?

Even now
A gauntlet hand
Reaches to summon
The sibilant
Scimitar of feathers.
Descending to spy
Screams in fright
And takes wild flight
Into the lowering sky..
So the Old Gods
And the New
Eschew our table:
Odin is gone,
Ceres unable,
And even that God
That taught Cain
To hate Abel
Turns away
In disdain.

Tell me, kind kindred,
I beg you explain
What rough Beast
Did we invite
To slouch
On our couch
Guzzling our pain,
Devouring our heart?

Oh light us a candle
Or maybe a star
Cause this year
We are further,
Much further
Than far.

That Rough Beast
Is closer, it's drawing near
Its ultimate intent
As yet unclear;

So do we fall into
Darkest night,
Or will you light us
A candle tonight?

Manuela Cardiga

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