leaves no mess behind.
No bloody, tortured, wracked remains
lovingly removed by tender hands,
captured by innumerable painters since–
Titian, Tintoretto–placed in a tomb only to rise
three days later–you know the rest.
“Where technology meets free markets”
some sonofabitch corporate wit
at some sonofabitch ad-hitman company,
provides the latest pentagon pimp
its current motto, gloriously displayed
in dying color at their website, showing,
30 billion dollars compressed into
the finest jet that ever killed
your mother, your kid, your spouse, yourself.
Targeted assassinations, pre-emptive strikes
brought to us by sleek cabals,
crying “freedom… democracy… New World Order. …”
(but whatever happened to the “War on Poverty”?).
Twenty percent of the world’s wealth
owned by the top 1 percent of Americans
living behind their gates as in castles
protected by moats–and we’re back
in the age of dungeons and dragons,
Torquemada, the true faith, the iron maiden,
and Roman legionnaires
gambling for the sacred, gored mantle.
But I forget…
We’ve got a couple millennia of “progress” now.
No more mantle to gamble for,
unless you’re thinking to re-connect
the various atoms/electrons
by some kind of nano-tech wizardry.
Christ’s blood blasted into
ten billion droplets dispersed in the sky
falls in a pinkish mist
where free markets meet technology.