Wince agin
Their is a terror
In the fabric of our lies
Buy and buy
An other
A tact
Against our weigh of life
As if
Versus from the Koran
As mirror dogmas eating dogmas
And due what
We no best
Selling sects
For a faction of the true accost
As so so frayed
To efface the music
As lamenting violins
Playing well on the civilized aside of the border
Though knot so much on the other
I just wrote this poem in the wake of another terrorist attack and the ongoing repose of colonial rule. Is terrorism some kind of wake up call? That is, to our highest hopes and ideals rather than our lowest, most base instincts. Terrorism may be likened to hating the alarm clock but loving the wages from the work of imperialism. The alarm clock is part and parcel to the work necessary to grimly reap the wages of sin. In this case, imperial power is simply the ability to make the wages of sin somebody else’s death, not one’s own. Will men and women of good will tolerate this? Ask not for whom the alarm clock wrings, it wrings for ewe. 
Those living in so-called civilized nations pretend that it is they who value human life, yet, how many Americans feel comfortable, even giddily patriotic, to kill ten, a hundred, or a thousand “others” to save a singular American life? This commonplace logic is like water to fish. In the real whirled, it is like blood to the world’s peoples. May we not be swept away in hour fear and lifelong privilege. Wake up! There is much more than first meets the eye in a world of just us.
