Barbarians

You're the reason why I'm here in Rome, and not
That dreadful little burg you proudly call your home.
I want no part of what you are, your lack of
Knowledge. Where are we? You couldn't find
Us on a map, and where, oh, where, is all this
Righteousness you say you represent? Go
Onward Christian soldier to your torture
Chambers, to your tin-pot clients and your
Murder drones. You blind your eyes to what
You are, while I, a turncoat, turned because
I knew when I had seen enough. Your Uncle
Sam's a fascist punk. Your country is a dinosaur
Which dies. It drowns in rising debt, and you,
And all these others with you, gum in mouths,
And guidebooks in your hands, and overflowing
Guts, are nauseating. Leave me now. I've come
To Rome to fall into the rhythm of the life that
People here have lived two thousand years.
It's nothing you could understand. Get on
Your plane. Go to a mall and buy some
Trinkets. Buy the lies the shits who tell you what
To do are saying on the radio. You'll be a
Sucker all your life, a creature in a stall
Inside a barn that hasn't any light, while I will
Make my home beside this table on the sidewalk
With the civilized, if they will let me stay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 24 times
Written on 2011-03-24 at 14:00

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