Lost Paradise
They said He walked above mortals,
Lived on a higher plane, above all,
That He knew the way of the Soul
And was beyond earthly existence;
He could tell of His mystical Vision
And reveal whether life was real
Or merely a fanciful fantasy
In the dreaming mind of an entity,
And humans only figments of imagination.
But the brilliant surface of His charisma,
As white as pure light of angels,
Disguised a deep seething anger,
A hatred hotter than any religious Hell,
And the bottomless pits of his hypnotic eyes
Hid the evil lurking in His cold heart.
He preached redemption below a pale moon
While they worshipped Him unto doom;
He inspired and led them with fanatic fervor
Through a land of empty, echoing canyons
Where they wandered a bleak wilderness,
Praying for death to awaken their spirits.
A false prophet, He gave destructive directions,
And they willingly became brainless disciples,
Joining together like the walking dead,
Deaf and dumb, unable to think for themselves,
Zombies blindly following a charismatic charlatan
Into a dark, lost paradise of oblivion.
Oklahoma City
Dark Phantom
The scary images flickered and flared,
Dark, twisted shapes haunting the media,
Shock-warped and stark-honed devastation,
And we wondered who had shattered our innocence
In this massive, explosive blast of terrorism?
He was led out of that building,
Empty-eyed, indifferent and stoic,
Handcuffed, escorted by Federal Agents:
He looked like our worst nightmare,
One of our own freedom-born sons
Gone mad, a lost soldier from Desert Storm.
In a relentless surreal sea of menace,
Over and over, the grim segment repeated,
His rigid military stance, stone-cold face,
Moving across TV screens in our homes,
And we wondered, who was this young man?
We will never know, not really,
For already he is a public phantasm,
Either good or bad, depending on the source,
But most often he is a flickering, shadowy
Media creation to sell tabloids, boost ratings;
And the wheels of manic media sensationalism
Roll on, molding him into myth and legend,
A dark phantom reflecting America's confusion.
ALIENATION
He was trained in military cruelty,
Sent off to be a brave, noble soldier,
--And hearing the call to glory--
He learned to fight mercilessly,
Make sacrifices, seek honor and valor,
As he clashed with brutal enemies;
A blood-predator, and a ruthless warrior,
His humanity was killed in battle too,
He became a casualty.
He returned to his country,
Came home wondering why
The military was downsizing;
Confused, he wandered city streets,
Idle, jobless, being skilled only to kill,
Roaming alone, driving bleak, lonely roads,
He searched for a purpose, a cause;
But the crusade led him into a dark landscape
Inhabited by those disillusioned like himself,
A population plagued by silent alienation,
Who saw in him the spark to be their voice
Of fiery indignation.
THE DREAMLAND MOTEL
The neon sign flashed and beckoned
As he pulled into the vacant lot,
Staring at the rundown building
Knowing his fate was close at hand.
He may have had a smirk on his face
Thinking of the irony of this lonely place,
How it seemed to be oddly appropriate
That he'd chosen to stay a few days
In a cheap motel sometimes used by
Soldiers transferred to the nearby military base.
He may have squared his shoulders with determination
Thinking how the spring nights would be spent
With low, urgent voices talking of conspiracy,
Planning an explosion of mass destruction
While the unsuspicious Ryder rental truck
Remained unnoticed in the dark parking lot,
Just the latest transfer from faraway
Waiting to relocate to the military base.
He may have had a daring gleam in his eyes
Thinking how he'd finally get even with society,
How his vengeful dream would soon come true
Deftly executed in a plot of doom,
Launched from an outpost of angry, bitter men
Who spoke about obscurity in a cramped room
On the edge of infamy in the Dreamland Motel.
