Saturday, September 11, 2004
beacon
beacon from the east where last night I saw Venus
clouds obscure part of your offering.
rain falls where I am standing
with no defence no umbrella no body-wrapping
condom or condominium to ward off the sky,
where messages await me from the future.
I have seen the scorched plains of Canada,
the ravaged land weeps in my eyes.
I have seen the diminished perimeter of continents,
as seas rise and bodycounts fall.
I have heard the shrieking of mothers, as storms, mudslides and floods
collect the young and old.
I smell the sea, she surrounds me, taunted by land,
she rises to engulf me.
My phantom-body tingles at the memory of a future
crushed by freezing torrential ice-balls.
now the message I must speak comes to me clearly,
unwrapped from cloud, unencumbered by darkness,
these words I must speak to you all:
you have no recourse, there is no fallback scheme,
alarms have been raised and disregarded as fairytale meanderings,
so, unaware, unprotected, you go forward into what i have seen.
some of you will say that nothing matters, that in the end we all die,
that the only future written that will pass is certain death.
post-apocalypse is where I stand in the present.
post-apocalypse surrounds me.
post-apocalypse denial is your sentence.
visions of a ravaged land have no currency,
no commodity market,
no one taking bets on the outcome of our civilization.
beacon from the east where last night I saw Venus
be strong, burn away sensation, burn away our fear,
burn away the visions of the future, burn away our tears.
clouds obscure part of your offering.
rain falls where I am standing
with no defence no umbrella no body-wrapping
condom or condominium to ward off the sky,
where messages await me from the future.
I have seen the scorched plains of Canada,
the ravaged land weeps in my eyes.
I have seen the diminished perimeter of continents,
as seas rise and bodycounts fall.
I have heard the shrieking of mothers, as storms, mudslides and floods
collect the young and old.
I smell the sea, she surrounds me, taunted by land,
she rises to engulf me.
My phantom-body tingles at the memory of a future
crushed by freezing torrential ice-balls.
now the message I must speak comes to me clearly,
unwrapped from cloud, unencumbered by darkness,
these words I must speak to you all:
you have no recourse, there is no fallback scheme,
alarms have been raised and disregarded as fairytale meanderings,
so, unaware, unprotected, you go forward into what i have seen.
some of you will say that nothing matters, that in the end we all die,
that the only future written that will pass is certain death.
post-apocalypse is where I stand in the present.
post-apocalypse surrounds me.
post-apocalypse denial is your sentence.
visions of a ravaged land have no currency,
no commodity market,
no one taking bets on the outcome of our civilization.
beacon from the east where last night I saw Venus
be strong, burn away sensation, burn away our fear,
burn away the visions of the future, burn away our tears.
