New Ruins At York.
New Ruins At York.
This charred remnant
is haunting, hate broke it,
now it sits memorializing
many miles from where it fell,
I touch it and visualize
thousands more just like it,
crushed into a vast crater;
twin gods toppled.
A phoenix of steel and flesh
cannibalized their might,
floors and ceilings falling in a
claptrap, claptrap clap clapclap
terror applauding, as the grasp
of the earth swallowed whole,
the mighty and the meek,
cooks and bankers,
cooked and banked in debris
janitors and stockbrokers,
swept away and broken,
with a wail heard round the world,
leaving a flesh canyon,
of several generations,
melted into a common grave.
DNA and carbon blended,
stained on steel, stone and glass,
a pit where once stood
breathtaking heights of power.
yet the ruins remained,
dotted with remains
persisting, in dagger like
points of unbelievable pain.
what once gleamed, bled, those skilled killed,
ancient Jericho revisited, work began immediately,
to remove, bulldoze and scrape the scar of
a nations spirit crushed, keening,
in need of counseling,
a wearisome demolition,
around careful corpse removal,
each once intelligent one bound,
in tombs with crossbeam braces,
reduced to venison splayed and broiled.
Bright were those rising monoliths,
cash cows full of the milk of honey,
resplendent floors of fine carpet, fine art,
and elegant work-spaces of oak and glass,
once renowned landmarks that now mar the land,
great the weeping of the multitudes,
high the abundance of rubble,
Hate catapulted a killing wound
in the shoulder of its mammoth girth,
high and low the innocent perished,
days of fear hand fed began,
red alerts, orange alerts,
"What the hell is a lert??"
Death also took many brave rescuers away,
their stations in life deserted places
empty helmets, vacant chairs,
even the commanders perished,
in a raw wound in a big apple,
where worms feasted for weeks.
How this place lay desolate,
surrounded by funerary wreaths.
a mass grave still open, but emptied,
intermingled with landfills,
broken into mounds, where at one time
small specks of flesh, were whole bodies,
living, breathing, laughing on that
Indian summer day that turned savage,
and oh the other spoils claimed,
diamonds, gold, currency, rare antiques,
all melted into embers, dismembered,
trappings of the wealthy becoming trapped,
into a state of worthlessness forevermore.
The sickly sweet stench of death
and water heated to boiling
roasted flesh and tens
of thousands of computers,
it floated over the city, for days,
in hot streams over grey stone,
it drifted out over the harbors,
like a shroud of burial
for the occupants of eternity,
vaporized into statistics,
no one will ever forget.
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