Dirge To Decadence
So, my cowardiced white brothers
Have your souls fallen?
More Low now than their cage.
Low, yet bodies yearn,
Escape to potent dust and slumbered dirge.
Have you crucified man's last upon the Somme maybe?
His final dignity buried in one thousand suns.
Lo! Even Death has turned his craven cowl,
Such tasteless meals as vanquished unlived;
Filthy youth in his trenchless peace.
White crowds, young hordes hungry for living hell;
Unspent and unmeant army that IS youth.
Overpleasured Caligulas;
Crumble now to potent dust.
2006-08-18
06:53:16
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3 answers
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asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Philosophy