Jassy Melson
10-24-2010, 01:28 PM
The gods look down in merriment
at the war between the blind;
they laugh and suck their ambrosia
and watch as thousands die.
Let me anoint your body
with frankincense and myrrh,
let me wrap you in clean linen
and place you in my tomb.
The soldier holds his intestines in his hands
and offers them to the nearest passerby.
A man beside him is beheaded
by a wayward metal fragment;
his body stands upright for a second
as if deciding where to fall;
it then crumples to the ground
and twitches like a frog
hooked to electrodes
The gods slap their thighs and laugh uproariously
at such a ludicrous sight; how stupidly funny
these mortals are; it's enough to make one bust a gut.
Let me seal your tomb, and then let me bribe the guards
to look the other way as I remove the seal
and let you escape into the great wide open,
leaving a messenger to proclaim
“He is not here, he is risen!”
Flies are already buzzing around the battlefield
and buzzards are soaring overhead.
A soldier screams in agony
as his leg is amputated;
another soldier watches in fascination
as flies crawl on the dead.
The shadows of buzzards block the sun.
The gods laugh, the wounded shriek, the dead fart
from expanding gases within their bodies.
What's it all about? No one knows, least of all the gods.
Maybe the flies know, but they're not telling.
at the war between the blind;
they laugh and suck their ambrosia
and watch as thousands die.
Let me anoint your body
with frankincense and myrrh,
let me wrap you in clean linen
and place you in my tomb.
The soldier holds his intestines in his hands
and offers them to the nearest passerby.
A man beside him is beheaded
by a wayward metal fragment;
his body stands upright for a second
as if deciding where to fall;
it then crumples to the ground
and twitches like a frog
hooked to electrodes
The gods slap their thighs and laugh uproariously
at such a ludicrous sight; how stupidly funny
these mortals are; it's enough to make one bust a gut.
Let me seal your tomb, and then let me bribe the guards
to look the other way as I remove the seal
and let you escape into the great wide open,
leaving a messenger to proclaim
“He is not here, he is risen!”
Flies are already buzzing around the battlefield
and buzzards are soaring overhead.
A soldier screams in agony
as his leg is amputated;
another soldier watches in fascination
as flies crawl on the dead.
The shadows of buzzards block the sun.
The gods laugh, the wounded shriek, the dead fart
from expanding gases within their bodies.
What's it all about? No one knows, least of all the gods.
Maybe the flies know, but they're not telling.