Poetry of the Anonymous

XVII - Wasteland Nightmare

When dreaming of a wasteland nightmare,

And death lying sordid on the cold stone floor,

With a heartbeat naked barren and bare,

Reaching for a light through the closing door –

Behind creeped learned men carrying souls by the dozen,

Frozen in their hearts of eternal two-fold nature,

To the screaming soliloquy of a beaten down nun,

And marching orders obeying scarce secrets so sure –

Caught between the final moment of realisation,

With the clouds of judgement eclipsing all prior truth,

An eternity of kin carried helplessly to the sterilisation,

Of the free mind trapped in infinite thoughts surpassed –

With dust scattered and formed over the times of old,

And the secrets of a past lived free were now sold,

I dreamt of a wasteland nightmare,

Where death lay naked, barren and bare –