To See The Devil Dance

Those stentorian
pleasure domes of fun,
hungered for
when I was young;

hold no appeal
now for me.
What is real
what is false;
with age comes
maturity.

Cobalt blue
arboreal green
vermilion sunsets
aquamarine.
Yet here, and there
an ugly scab;

brown skinned,
stick thin
children blab.
Atrophied bellies
empty eyes;
will it matter if another dies?

Out east a young man
who thinks he is wise
dreams of lasting paradise;

straps explosives
to his back,
his guaranteed
immortality pack.

While hour on hour
suited men in grey
in western halls
of democracy play

games of power
games of chance
and laugh to see the devil dance.

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VMM2004