All along Fulton Street,
past the human parasites, hawking their official
Ground Zero mementos,
I stare at these vultures, and hope that perhaps
Dante might have missed one circle of hell,
reserved for any that would sift gold from so
much suffering.(scumbags)
passing the makeshift shrines and memorials that
line the path leading to Ground Zero,
You can almost feel the pavement pulsate beneath
your feet,
as if the stones themselves overflow with the
pain left here,
Here, is the carnival of pain,
Here, is where lovers wail,
Here, is where the 21st century began.
The line is getting thicker as I hand my ticket to
a Cop, and he points me to the entrance to
the platform, the line there is even larger,
barely moving, yet no one complains.
No one wants to get to the end of this Attraction,
It’s a Funeral dirge, a Kaddish even.
The slow, shuffling, footsteps upon the wooden
platform, is mixed with the surrealistic sounds
of cell phones ringing in the background.
And I wonder if these are Phantom calls,
unanswered from the 90th floor,
Condemned to ring throughout eternity at this place
of horror.
When I reach the viewing rail,
I peer out, to the gaping hole that is Ground Zero.
I am humbled, and feel out of place,
I look up and think back to the image of the unnamed
man and woman holding hands as they jumped from
the World Trade Center on September 11th.
I wonder if they were strangers until that moment,
or were they lovers, who clasped hands and pierced
the Sunset together.
Either way, they have wed infinity.
teaches that "For everything, its season",
a time for war and a time for peace.
Staring into the abyss of Ground Zero,
It looks like some esoteric divining pool,
revealing the future, for those with eyes to see it.
It appears Seasons have changed.
As I exit the platform, I am greeted by Brother Steve,
Who tells me that This was All in Jesus Christ’s plan.
Brother Steve spoke with the conviction of a man
assured, (the same assurance that makes other zealots
crash jetliners into skyscrapers in the name of GOD),
He asks to pray with me,
I refuse, and walk away.
No, it’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.
"Why do the wicked live on,
prosper and grow wealthy?"
The book of Job.
O'er The Ramparts
My Blue-Eyed Son
Those That Build The Bombs
The National Guard
I Shall Be Released