Saturday, 2 September 2017

BABBLE ON, BABYLON

Brick by brick
they build my new Tower of Babel. 

Untamed by the stratosphere,
ignoring the constant tug and taunts of gravity,
progress is swift.
Step by step,
heaven-bound and hungry
to desecrate the Pearly Gate,
they build ever skyward.

Eagerly
I await the fall of the Tower.

Through ruin
comes creation
and you can bet your Divine Behind
that before the ashes settle
I've begun plans to rebuild.

Far below,
bewildered men 
meander the city streets
spouting signifiers,
flaccid and forgotten,
soon abandoned
then

frustrated

hurling a flurry of impotent signs
upon eyes gone blind

whipping up a cloud of confusion
that fells
their bridges
of popsicle sticks,
the toothpick tower
not far behind

Storeys above,
gazing out the window
on the 16th floor,
I am oblivious

My eyes, gone glassy, are locked
on the wing-footed apparition
circling the rooftops

warning in her metallic voice
“everything he touches, he breaks”



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