Chaotic dictators fly farther
into a discordance
that follows a narrow
ill harmed attempt
at a beginning concordance
in a time
that never should have been.

Fascist leader
Tarry Schmidt
told admiring sycophants
there are no issues to work out
when the reaper comes calling;
and his sister, Nantifinia,
acknowledged that indeed
things are grim.

But national socialists
say they are close
to hammering out
the grounded bones
of dissent
and soon the details
won’t be relevant
because we’ll all be dead.

The sun glances off the rock
and leaves it shimmering
reflections of an ancient past.

In the outlines of a cliff
I can see a thousand faces
old and craggy
all blurring together
a buried treasure
deep inside
that drives me to it
leading me downwards
towards the heat
where I’ll find it,
a way out of here.

– matt at shadow of iris
murmurs_and_shrapnel_xxxiv
[Last two verses inspired by Peter Gric.]