Treasure Island

R.L. Ohlhausen

(28 June 1970 / USA)

Beautiful Destruction


A rough rain falls on the river running as a
fisher casts over tainted water, and
Black blood burns as the wars are raging and the
soldiers argue who’s hell is hotter.
Strange ghosts Earth can’t recognize, in the
fields littered with those who’ve fallen,
I see my cold reflection in their bright eyes.

A worker strains from the line he’s towing and
this stale air with the Devil we breathe,
A father falls as the guns go mowing, an echo
in the street when the church bell rings.
Billboards bury nightless skies, in their
shadows I stumble past an unwashed child,
I find the world's solace shining in her bright eyes.

A mother wails as the air is pounding and the
sound of fire in the distant town, where
A sad clock creeps over the horizon glowing,
old faces crumble from souls grown bare,
Waiting for death and their hell to rise.
Stray dog plays in a sacred river, as I kneel to drink,
And stares right through with his bright eyes

A marketplace crowded with the people talking,
come here to worship the world they’ve built and
Their voices I hear but none are speaking, the words
drowned out by the blood we’ve spilt.
Light cracks the tired church filled with lies, as a
ripe-bellied mother walks up the aisle,
I smell her youth and pray to the hope I see in her bright eyes….

Submitted: Saturday, January 31, 2009
Edited: Monday, October 05, 2009

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  • Max Kuvaev (1/31/2009 9:41:00 PM)

    An amazing poem I think! It's real grasping and I like these symbols. The ending part is awesome. The poem is angry and anxious but still I believe that the keyword of it can be found in the last line. It says 'hope'. Thanks alot! ! ! (Report) Reply

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