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NEW AND OLD BABYLON





A drowsy madness permeates my soul; I feel the numbness

That the morning dove felt when we bombed Iraq and the

Pictures of the saddest glower and mien appeared on T.V.



We value mathematics too much; the decimation of life equals

Many more barrels of oil.  Neither Pascal, Newton nor Leibniz’s

Equations could equal or replace a single life taken in a war.



War is like a drug that we have grown accustom to so that we

Can sleep at night.  We love to play cards in the serpent’s house

For this is the planet of both the cheater and the cheated.



Our affections are stuffed in the ogres mouth and we feed the

Beast with cannon fodder so that it can spill itself into the world

As we walk away from our mea culpa; the ogre’s name is misreason.



We have sunken into the bog so that cries are muffled to our ears

And we can no longer hear the supplications for mercy and long

For wailing pleas to be silence by unleashing ultimate destruction.



But wait, that same vehemence is unleashed on us and mirrored by

The same blind violence we call terrorism; what has become of the

Rule of law?  Severed heads are now traded for unlawful tribunals.



All this can be tolerated as long as the New Babylon is in control of

The old Babylon.  Our Babylon along the Hudson will survive and we

Can feel secure as long as our shock and awe is greater than terrorism.