Capture Rapture
We’ve rescued the Garden of Eden,
took it back. God is blessed,
the terrors of the Enemy
to be expected. He loved those
apples, plums, nectarines, peaches.
The juices hissed down his dark hide.
They suppurated in the sacred rivers.
So we sat down and smoked by the waters.
We cleansed the apples and peaches.
We oiled them to such a bloom.
This for me was our great triumph.
The armoured vehicles alone used
more than a million gallons of oil
each day. We can see further.
From Samara to Naja. The first
serious resistance. We killed about 100,
imagine! the miracle of thermal imaging.
Then, a trial, the worst sand storm
for twenty years. The Garden receded
into the deluge. We pushed on.
Bravo 1 and Bravo 2 were buried -
they went up in flames. Bravo, brothers!
We got him out alive, decorated by fire.
The flaming sword. The Fallen One.
We were getting confused. Genesis
whirred and stuck in a dust djinn.
But in the end the Abrahams
tanks rolled into the oasis. Where Allah
lay burnt out as a little newborn child.
(What travesty! But we weren’t
that confused). We swaggered
on the enormous returning troop-carrier,
we laid it on the marble steps,
by the four corners, red-spotted,
we had tramped the dusty roads,
bundle over our shoulder, just a hobo
like from the poorest backyard.
Then God said: Shucks and Aw!
And we cheered and opened
our pocket handkerchief and
spread Allah, crisp as a fall bonfire,
at His long extensive toes.
took it back. God is blessed,
the terrors of the Enemy
to be expected. He loved those
apples, plums, nectarines, peaches.
The juices hissed down his dark hide.
They suppurated in the sacred rivers.
So we sat down and smoked by the waters.
We cleansed the apples and peaches.
We oiled them to such a bloom.
This for me was our great triumph.
The armoured vehicles alone used
more than a million gallons of oil
each day. We can see further.
From Samara to Naja. The first
serious resistance. We killed about 100,
imagine! the miracle of thermal imaging.
Then, a trial, the worst sand storm
for twenty years. The Garden receded
into the deluge. We pushed on.
Bravo 1 and Bravo 2 were buried -
they went up in flames. Bravo, brothers!
We got him out alive, decorated by fire.
The flaming sword. The Fallen One.
We were getting confused. Genesis
whirred and stuck in a dust djinn.
But in the end the Abrahams
tanks rolled into the oasis. Where Allah
lay burnt out as a little newborn child.
(What travesty! But we weren’t
that confused). We swaggered
on the enormous returning troop-carrier,
we laid it on the marble steps,
by the four corners, red-spotted,
we had tramped the dusty roads,
bundle over our shoulder, just a hobo
like from the poorest backyard.
Then God said: Shucks and Aw!
And we cheered and opened
our pocket handkerchief and
spread Allah, crisp as a fall bonfire,
at His long extensive toes.
JKazantzis 2003 ( Ambit 06)
