The White Room

I.

Argent parlor

               Bed in roses

                              Cool, darkling stares

In Black and White

               Absorbs all light

                              Here are delights

Am I crazy?

               When I think right

                              No, I think, Yes

None can answer

               The nun’s prayer

                              She is my dread

Fetid and soiled

               She tells me my

                              Soul is abused

The Blues, Feng Shui

               Coordinate

                              What is to come

The sun, no suns

               Enter this room

                              Know no regrets

Remember light

               Pale moonlight smiles

                              Unending dooms

You are here, too

               Knitting our lives

                              Remembering

Hiroshima

               Nagasaki

                              Enola Gay

In the dark lies

               The half-life’s live

                              Glow with regrets

The Pilot smiles

The Pilot lies

               He is here, too

Heavy water

               Tithe the oceans

                              Wanting to share

II.

The sitting room

               The doctors stare

                              Await the storms

Of unhinged lives

               Medicated

                              To believe dreams

We know all rooms

               It’s our puzzle

                              Solving his muse

How could he drop

               Devastation

                              And call it hope

How could we lie

               And say its hope

                              Smoke and more smoke

The cities burnt

               Shadows that crept

                              Ashes of smoke

The rhymes of war

               Jingle tingle

                              Laugh and mingle

Bloody the rope

               Half-life of hopes

                              Disappearance

My eyes bonded

               To the running

                              Chilly children

Where do they go

               Geronimo

                              Parachutes launched

Kill them all and

               Kill them again

                              All Indians

Manifest the

               Cruel destiny

                              Of all dead flags

All western fronts

               Have fallen true

                              To opinion

III.

Doctor Panzer

               Is no Nazi

                              He smokes and smokes

Says funny tropes

               Devastation

                              Is all in hopes

The numbered Jews?

               No opinion

                              As he debriefs

All the children

               And hands them rope

                              To strangle hope

Let’s them dangle

               In gas chambers

                              And the Pope knows

Counting their souls

               Expecting the news

                              Safe in his rooms

Coliseum

               Dead horses roam

                              The carcasses

Nero has time

               To decide fate

                              We have no time

Where memory

               Kills the torn fate

                              Memory lies

We imagined

               Dirigibles

                              Burnt across skies

That gave our lives

               Something to kill

                              Something to strive

Dawn never came

               Medicine Man

                              Cavemen’s fire  

The spinning wheels       

               The carcasses

                              Dawns desire

New horizons

               To kill and kill

                              Roaming the prairie

To improve lust

               To tramp in dust

                              Weapons deny

Us to Jesus

               But I’m the Christ

                              In this closed room

IV.

Silent running

               The crimson cross

                              Love massacred

Who is he to

               Say what is true?

                              Up on his cross

Magdalene cry’s

               Pilat denies

                              All history

Man is a curse

               Sodden in prey

                              Damp in his grave

Spinning in the

               Infinity

                              Of Trinity

Of His power

               Where is power

                              Where we all fall

In this white room

               So pure and trite

                              I say goodnight