Rome Must Be Destroyed
A handful of dirt tossed in the air
tells us nothing,
tells us everything.
Microbes grown from next to nothing
into a monumental mind,
the planet become a useless buzzing head
spinning itself a billion lies,
we orbit the sacred self,
a web of morons.
At Zama did Scipio commit us?
Or did Cicero light the fuse with a word?
- like the dust in the air
our little eternity
turns on the whim of the wind
poem by Jim Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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