This is a (slightly pretentious) poem I just churned out inspired by the ghoulish scenes of celebration at the death of Bin Laden.
Whatever crimes he may have been guilty of, I cannot bring myself to celebrate or glory in someone's death and the scenes of jubilation disturbed me deeply.
Dancing to the Tune
The circus rides into town,
Flags fly proudly in the court of the carnival king.
Cheering crowds, a baying mob,
Begin to dance as the rough music plays.
Primeval joy burns in mindless eyes,
Violent ecstasy for violence done,
Civilisation lost in vengeance’s name.
Bathed in blood, the revelry goes on,
Madness steeped in death, the basest lust,
No room for humanity here, only feral need,
Ghouls made of men, stamping on graves,
Dancing on and on until the rough music fades.
Historical note: rough music was an old English method for punishing people in a village who had transgressed (wife beating and so on).
Wikipedia article on Rough Music
No comments:
Post a Comment