Makers of artificial suns
For our phlegmatic races
There standing solemnly
The Malignant megalith faces
Cinder grey sarcophagus
Hiding the uranium umbrage
Leeching Life from desecrated soil
Retching bile upon the wretched
Carried by the winds
Smothering the impoverished land
Eight centuries of life
Replaced with eight hundred years of death
The spirits of dwellers under cellars
The poisoned roots of the church
Searching through the darkened crypts
And the final tolls of souls
Graveyards of ghost-ridden machines
A thousand open doorways
Grimacing at empty streets
In the silence you can almost hear their whispers
At night, the woods glow crimson
Sacrificial blood, perhaps
To the red stars
And bronze cast Anti-gods
Poisoned, all your beasts
Polluted, all your streams
Palimpsest, a realm now for Death
Progress? only in your feverish dreams
(Dedicated to the Earth the sufferance of the Chernobyl disaster that befell on 26th April, 1986)
An accompaniment to the photos.
All word and visual craft are property of Liam Lanigan (2007), use only with permission.
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