Babylon's Restoration

The triumphant monarch shakes in delight,

Showering Babylon with a glacial sight,

As people twirl and drink gallons,

And eagles sharpen powdered talons.

A decade goes by in half a night,

Nostalgia’s mixed with a fervent whip,

Hands glide from the chest to the hip,

Dirty dancing in celestial fright.

A sealed knot of devout intentions,

Hides multitudes of licentious acts,

Hideous crimes and random detentions,

Are immortalized in tomorrow’s tracts.

Spears of perfume cloud the air,

A deadly toxin that addles the mind,

Desperation sinks in with a crooked stare,

The war's nearly over, the general's resigned.

Cromwell shakes, hiding in the dark,

Ready to spike for a drunken lark.

Blood is spilled below strobe lights,

A landmark of postmodern sights.

Restoration is nearing fruition,

Revolution is quelled in drink and shots,

The lights go out, a premonition,

Of failed kidneys and blood clots.

But it's not the last of the civil war,

We'll see revolution next weekend for sure,

With cenotaphs disgraced, eardrums burst,

In the heroic illusion that's long been cursed.

© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 18/12/09