All we can do is wonder
Over what nefarious force
Gouged that gap to wound the earth
So cheerlessly between us;
An ecclesiastic excavation by your God?
Deep, your carnivorous dark canyon
Wherein you hope our luminous liberties
Might be sucked down in limp surrender,
Harvested or integrated like dead butterflies,
Mere exhibits in your showcase of insanity.
Once there could have been a bridge
Whereupon we may have met half way,
Paused above the stygian depth to talk.
But the tongue is not your culture.
Just the blood-wet swinging of the sword.
Primeval, your vicious visage cloaked behind
A coward’s cowl, a black habit, foul façade
Of anonymity, heartless, cruel, conscience free,
You seek to recreate your Golden age of Guilt
Upon my family’s shattered limbs.
Thus across the chasm do we stand, perplexed;
Your laser beams of spite and hate
The only things to bridge that cretin’s crazed crevasse
Thus strutting backwards beneath your barren banner,
Quoting distorted verse; human progress in reverse.