Wednesday, 31 August 2011

The Last Pole

I stood upon the ruins of what was once a city;
Warsaw is nothing more than a mere wisp of a memory now,
As it was not, ever since they had arrived. 
I stared at what was once a home, that curiously belonged to me
As if such trifles mattered any more.

I stood upon the mounds of men,
Of what was once a living, breathing person and many, many more,
Now strewn away, frozen and stiff, 
And yet still hauntingly alive, 
Mocking the living, at the plight of life

I stood upon what was once a nation, 
As lands yielded to the greedy tentacles of flames infernal, of their device
As farms of fire spread their seeds,
As rains of fire drowned the ominous sound of a thousand bees
Bees that spit fire, and belched hate

I stood upon his gaze,
The hatred, cold and hard
I stood upon what was once me,
A haunting memory,
As I mocked, at the plight of their lives...

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