Babel
The old and bloody king was slain
His fatted guts upon a field split
His subjects in their shallow graves were lain
And a great and noxious pyre lit
The rotten kingdom was laid low
Our mighty captain was made the lord
Done with war, we set aside the bow
As we into plowshares beat our swords
We gathered up the fallen stones
And melted down the enemies shields
With them we built up our homes
And soon began to work our fields
Never did we sing a mournful dearth
Nor the bells of sadness ring
Happily I plowed the earth
And joyous melodies would sing
My land became my only joy
As thoughts of war turned into dust
Then one day I walked alone
The fetch water from a new dug well
There I met a haggard crone
Her aspect hideous and fell
She told me these had been her husband’s lands
And of the ruin our war had made
She grappled me with pleading hands
and asked me that I lend her aid
Spitting in her face I cried
“How dare you mock our honest war,
I will not help you!” I replied
“you kingless and repulsive whore”
Cursed, she said that I would be
To visions of the future dream
And my eyes the hearts of people see
To understand their horrid scheme
Mocking I returned to hearth and home
Yet fell I into troubled sleep
I dreamed I saw my lord that day
Locked in battle with the wicked king
On and on they danced with feet of clay
With desperate cut and fearsome slashing
Yet at the end the king lay dead
His stomach parted by the blade
The crown my lord placed on his own head
And cried, “A new Kingdom is made”
Then I saw him sweep away the soldiers bones
And said “We shall have glory in our days”
And the cracked and fallen stones
He did a mighty city raise
But then the King’s wounds poured upon the sand
A terrible and crimson flood
That swept across my lord’s new land
Till it became a sea of blood
There I saw my lord’s young bride
Rutting the corpse upon the sanguine shore
Awakened now I go to walk the streets
And hear them say “How like the gods are we”
Boasting of their shallow feats
While they, the murderers, walk free
Young men in Lust’s poison loom
Kiss the women’s tarnished heads
Who with silk and sweet perfume
Draw them to their husband’s beds
I see their shame and pride are now laid bare
How they, the damned, seek their own glory
While my blackened dreams make me aware
Of how the hollow men shall end their story
Seeing now, I tell them of their coming lot
Yet all my words their hearts deny
“Am I Cassandra that you hear me not?”
Out in the feted streets I cry
While up and up they build their Babel towers
and say “How like the gods are we”
All they’ve built shall fall to dust and die
For all eternity, like great Ozymandias, to lie
Amidst the blood and rubble will I lay
My heart shall break like shattered clay
