Bring Me the Head of a Fallen God
(Federico Castellon, Dream on the Beach)
See the empty eyes where all knowledge has been plucked out,
is now lost. We have abandoned the ideals of an age, the laurels
of heroism rendered meaningless. No wonder our emaciated bodies
show skeletal even though we continue to primp and pose
before Narcissistic mirrors. Yet some stand naked, transfixed
beneath the arch of a red solar giant future, while others slump
hand over face, unwilling to look at what we have wrought.
Pitiless desert sands, a ravaged planet: this is our existence today.
The golden tongue cut out, the voice of reason silenced.
We dine on the scraps of desiccated desire.
Our blood runs dry, we have become marble.
James P. Roberts
