The streets here look like newly paved black gold
Lined with moss speaking conquistador’s beards
The Americas aging to god knows what
And the conquests have hardly begun.
Today brought carriages running up the boughs of trees
Forward through all directions, endlessly.
Mother Progress weeps dumbfounded, abandoned.
To all Copper and Clay
I address this new age, and I salute your flexibility.
Night no longer possesses inhuman demons.
Only true light.
Sweat cools in this heat.
Heat the Spanish ate
While the nude west sweats before the smartly kindled flame.
Insects tilt their noise towards gilded leaf.
…Elephants still cross the Alps, I’m sure
And Hannibal unites banners of several gods
With few words sans promitto.
…Impossible for this to be the same sun!
Our native sun pale green, as copper at sea!
We have been cleaned, abolished of our heir!
Lex talionis padme hum…
Albert, this is amazing, I like this one and another,
The Americas aging to god knows what
And the conquests have hardly begun.
And so true, on that.
And this yes it is hard to believe,
With few words sans promitto.
…Impossible for this to be the same sun!
Thanks for revealing your world, and poetry
,¸.·*¨¸.·*WWWorrrrrrdddsssslllllllliiiinnnngggggggerrrr