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Phoenix Nine Eleven
by Soulo Jacob BourgeauDesert dust traffic ways
Echelons of worker bees
Snail west from daily grinds
Eager for cozy abodes
Pious rhetoric, non solutions
Seep from my dashboard
As danger buys passage past
Unattended southern borders
Adults bat averted eyes, they
Trade foresight for routine
As children giggle hopscotch
To the caw of jittery birds
This grand arid metropolis
Gleams in capitalist hues
Unaware the mortal ironies
Swirling in enemy minds:
Their sacred desert lands
Defiled by the West -
What righteous retribution
To attack in sands of the free?
Still leaders cackle sound bites
As wicked bomb parts smuggle
Into Phoenician hills, awaiting
AllahÂ’s call to light the fuse 02/09/2006 Author's Note: Collab w/ Christine Tate.
Posted on 02/09/2006
Copyright © 2024 Soulo Jacob Bourgeau
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 02/09/06 at 06:52 PM Immensely powerful - this needs to be published in the editorials of the newspapers. The imagery and feeling of preposterousness is inescapeable. Fine and brilliant, Soulo and Christine. I light a candle to this. —Jill |
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