May 19, 2020

The Superb Generation. {Poem}

When the superb generation arose

It was not immediately apparent.

There were no fireworks, for instance,

No great proclamations,

Just the intimate tremoring circumstance

That something had changed.

For a while we ignored the insistent

Humming that came from we knew

Not where, or a great cadenza perhaps

Resounding in the bowels of the immortal

Earth. We were deaf to everything, sublimely

Ignorant of the coming storm: a cataclysm.


Of course, the years went slowly by.

They needed to grow, these strong

Passionate provocateurs. How they chafed

At the bit, almost choking on the bland

Lies, the feeble doctrines that we fed

Them day by day. Such excrement!


But they survived. Of course they did,

Happily congregating in huge numbers

Blocking the serpentine traffic of our dying

Insinuations. They would not tolerate, no

They would not tolerate the reckless tourniquets,

The twisted impressions we offered them.


There was no hope. What we had called

Civilization and its politics disappeared

In the twinkle of an eye. The lithe bodies

Of our youthful saviours loomed above us.

All was now lost, but for them a new planet

Grew, green, and untainted in the mellow air.


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