UltRacemic Reflections – a poem

The pylons are burning

A smell of ozone wafting

Through the protective cave covering

An awakening aroma of the Fall

That horrendous pall long oft put off, aside

The timid, lying and pale morality

We wished things would otherwise be…


Mute considerations of doom

Went smoothly nowhere

A sewn up bag of tricks carried

More weight than the bridge which burns

A foreign world has arrived, turning

Our cave is swamped with shadowy understanding.


Frightened, we wish elsewise

There is no longer any help or god

Hope died with the falling pylons

Eidolons of civilisation and sanity

Those monoliths falling

Are deathly, deadly appalling.


If lightning lived longer

Than that mere moment

That instant

Then those pylons fallen

Would be the broken thrones

Monolithic record of their fall.


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