Andrés Paniagua Curiel (anselmo_b) wrote,
Andrés Paniagua Curiel

Free radicals.

Such godless horror as a thing that moves
And yet cannot be named.
The stalwart champions of a former world
Defeated by the fury of their zeal
Gave way to reason’s children.

Stunned nations serving twenty years of boredom
A moodless calm, a lull
The rule of un-committing youth, an age
Of muses raped to still the brokers’ lust
Thus Mammon leads them on.

Where no idea has a hold, no sun
To shine on something new
The prophets banished from the dessert speak
To crowds again and all
May hear but none may listen.

Yet should all fail still nothing will be lost
For parents shall be seen
Attending field and children
And boys shall dream of girls among the herds
And girls shall know untainted love again.

A thing to miss perhaps, the crowd’s gay chatter
Descending marble stairways after shows
The ceaseless amber glitter of the streetlamps
The murmured geese honks of the distant traffic
On the hot summer evenings of the city.

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