Imminence
(War)

By Cristina Castello

Death gets her make up on.
She dresses up. She cheers
She caresses scythes
in joy of bells
In gluttony of child eyes
and hungry for Power
The party, organized for her
by the bush, blair, aznar
Death feels the eve,
of souls, crystal dew
Death wants Empire
Of cosmos and not cosmos.
Of servitude of the dead
Like the bush, blair, aznar

A hand of ice
Suffocates words
But with words
Genocide is enough,
With throat bones
From the bone of the soul
We embrace life
We abolish scythes
So there’s no more party
Of bush blair
aznar death
for peace
for good
for
Light

©Cristina Castello
03 17-03
www.cristinacastello.com
 cristinacastello@cristinacastello.com