We are now in the 13th Century --but there are some anachronisms here...
"Kamakura Period"
The power plant spews out
toxins, clouds of chemicals take
the form of warriors, dressed
in armour on horses, they
are the Mongols, ready for
the third invasion, the horses
whinny, and the sound of the
warriors can be heard, the clatter
of swords, and the cries, the
murderous clamour, the purple
prose of the historian,
and, and, excitedly, he recalls
how the wind, how the wind
of the gods came to rescue
the Japanese from the hordes,
and still, the clouds rise, enormous
army of mixed compounds and
this unknown poison,
and, yet, there is no wind as the
cloud shaped now like a mushroom
of Nagasaki, bloats into history,
and the elemental rage of the temple
guardian, the Kongo, raises his fist
to combat the vast armies of the Mongol,
his head twisted in anger, the eyebrows
ridges of concentrated energy,
and still no God's wind, the sinews on
the Kongo's neck stretched to the fullest,
now limp and like a pathetic guard-dog, he can only
whimper, as the gases take hold of his
lungs, and punch his insides out, in a tubercular
implosion, and still no sign of God's wind,
as the Mongol invasion takes over
leaving nothing and no one behind.
-----Original Message-----
差出人 : pain <[log in to unmask]>
宛先 : [log in to unmask] <[log in to unmask]>
日時 : 1999年6月9日 16:29
件名 : RE: poem
>I just wrote this poem this second as it should proceed the latter.
>Apologies to all who prefer Event news.
>
>
>Jomon Period
>
>taken out of the earth
>the clay figurine
>has the black soot
>of the subway, the newsprint
>of the crowds walking past,
>and the flowing urine,
>matches the rivers,
>and the plastic umbrella
>would seem to serve some
>peculiar religious ritual
>the eyes are triangular
>from lack of sleep,
>and the mouth a crop circle
>from uttering to itself
>time immemorial, why, why,
>and the clothes are bronze
>polished at the elbows
>shiny and greasy.
>
>
>
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