Another bag of bones

It’s a brushfire spreading, feeding as it moves. It’s a disappeared glacier, it’s an airborne flu. It's your disbelieving eyes locked in concrete miles. It’s your yawning conscious and your lawyer’s smile. It’s an occupied country, foaming at the mouth. No smoking gun, no mushroom cloud. It’s a military mother with a boy in hell. And it’s a flag draped casket down an oil well. It’s an Argentina school girl, gagged and bound. It’s a torture camp, it’s a long way down. It’s the constant brace and shock of now. It’s the whole damn world turned inside out, all right. It’s a march to extinction with your god in step. It’s his name in your mouth, it’s his cross on your neck. It’s a farm boy sprinting over desert dirt. And he’s panting the ‘Our Father’ in staccato spurts. Now that's his automatic rifle and it tells no lies. That’s his truth in your stomach, it’s no alibi. But the trouble lies on the other side. With an equal truth prepping for his holy night. He sees his crescent and the star in the virgin sky. He hears the call of milk and honey from the afterlife. And as he eases to the check point, he is calm and sure. It’s collateral damage, it’s the cost of war. It’s another bag of bones for the gods to sort. It’s just another bag of bones for the gods to sort. It’s the species disappearing, all the birds fly south. In a January heat wave and a pulsing crowd. It’s an African militia, kids with sub machines. It’s a conflict diamond on your bride to be. It’s the dispossessed lining up every gate. It’s the facts worth facing, faced way too late. It’s the mission of modernity, go get what’s yours’. ’Til there’s nothing leftover to get no more. And it’s not what were owed but it’s what we’ve earned. And it’s closer than we realized that it's time now, to burn. It’s time now to burn. Oh, it’s time now to burn.
-K.Devine