Nerves 9 11 After Olga Katzin Miller Nerves Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Nerves 9 11 After Olga Katzin Miller Nerves



I think I’ll call home, leave a trace,
I think my cell phone’s down,
imagine being face to face,
time, place: Manhattan town.

From CNN to Internet
both buildings, markets, crash
scare fare flies fast, none know as yet,
overconfidence was rash.

Rumour rampant rises high
relief seems rather slow
comparisons both sad and wry
Bush burning Ground Zero.

It’s just like Black September,
absurd how Time loops still,
since ever we remember
time cycles round at will!

One can’t stroll round, cement and glass
at skittles play with men,
one can’t just stay inside and pass
for an energumen.

Eyes glued to television
in real-time cross the globe,
twin flash news flash precision
shows how Death sows test probe.

Some say more flights diverted
may strike the pentagon,
truth, justice are perverted,
security seems gone.

It looks like twin tornadoes struck
tall towers into dust,
but in five years with any luck
we’ll build them back, we must!

Bomb Boeing here, bomb bay wing there,
that this should come to be!
FBI where? Fib everywhere,
what difference to me!

I think I’ll roll a joint or two,
or pour another drink,
I really don’t know what to do,
should I consult a shrink?

Since cell phones point to point fell through,
its like a traffic jam,
its pointless trying, none get through
terror wrists on the lam

Upon prized towers pride rode tall
defences failed the test,
exploding concrete, glass and all,
curse jihad Islam blessed!

Some say hijackers flirted
with chaos, on the blink,
it seems as if we’ve skirted
round Armageddon’s brink.

See how asbestos cripples
first aid and fire brigade
as dust pollution ripples
round skies pollution greyed.

Some jump from high-rise windows
as all, appalled, stand by
as helpless as their widows,
Dow's blush red, bust, bye bye.

Some say one race united
was meant to turn to flame,
why were those young lives blighted
to burn in Allah’s name!

We see the media lose its cool,
with self-control role gone
to sea - nerve curves from shop to school
rise, double blame game's on.

Fall turns lost summer's corner
yet Senate outlaws laws
to keep gun records, mourner
knows who to vote out doors.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
variant Nerves Up to Date and Boston Marathon
(11 September 2001 26 July 2013)
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