Canto XXIX

One thing I learned today from Martin’s paintings
is how we love to watch the skies turn red—
the rivers boil, mountains disintegrating,

the clouds of ash, heavy as molten lead—
from vantage points of dull security.
And when we step away and look ahead

to view heaven’s torpid serenity—
the creepy cherubs and white robed caucasians,
libido-botomized for eternity,

an ecstasy devoid of titillation—
I’m quick to step outside, switch on my phone,
rekindle my appreciation

for all these fleeting days in Babylon.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Aug 14, 2012 @ 00:21:21

    I did not fully appreciate this poem until I checked out John Martin’s paintings… Glorious reds and golds as fire and brimstone rain down or black storm clouds descend to destroy the dens of iniquity. Make the most of the last fleeting days of Babylon.

    Reply

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