Devil's Scrapbook

Devil's Scrapbook


I am so tired
of pickled
white men
who have never
had to stare down
the barrel of a gun
telling us what
the fuck
about war
about death
about freedom
about sacrifice
delivering meandering
diatribes while
exposing their shaven
pink testicles
like some sacred
amulet
I no longer
believe they can
be rehabilitated
no longer feel
any remorse for
what will be
heaped upon us
all
because we could
not stop them
would not stop
them
failed as
the Romans
as the Greeks
as the Germans did
unable to see
their societies had
become inbred
dysfunctional
comatose
oblivious to
their own disease
eating freshly baked loaves
of bread while
the future rode down
hard upon glorious
cities with
no mind to
stop and check
bank accounts or
political affiliations
or religious penchants
a future with
sharp eyes and
thick odorous breath
bent on
nothing those
societies believed to
be important
nothing but the
necessity of
change
and mutation
and evolution
and entropy
nothing but
the opportunity to
let the sun
rise upon
landscapes riddled
with bodies
decomposing
feeding bacteria
vultures and
the eyes of
dictators
visions for a
devil’s scrapbook


Randolph Nesbitt

Posted over on Poets Against The War