A seasonal poem,to make you feel all “warm” on the inside,awwhh.

Burn ,Babylon ,Burn.

A grand chorus of once muted voices sings ,

of the ruin of empires and the fall of kings ;

in silhouetted frenzy a new hope rises from the dark ,

the tinderbox of wealth has caused the spark ;

bloodied ,brow-beaten and bullied ,

the dreams of the many remain unsullied ;

the Acropolis and the Prado are burning to-night ,

to-morrow the Tate Modern will burn just as bright ;

carpeted with a billion twinkling shards ,

emptied shopping malls give inspiration to the Bards ;

and the graffiti-daubed monuments to privilege and power ,

now only mark their builders final hour .

( ” Burn,Babylon,Burn ” can also be viewed at )


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