Paul Amrod

Gold Star - 13,672 Points (May 17th,1951 / Chateaugay, New York)

As The Angels Cry Upon Afghanistan - Poem by Paul Amrod

Firstly the burlesque Bolsheviks with their Kalashnikovs
attempted to usurp this precious land of treasures.
Then a covertly supported enterprise called mujahedin
screamed Allah Akbar while exploding rockets for pleasure.
After a decade the first tears had fallen from the angels above
and the wailing souls sent their plea as the spirits did convene.
The communists were worn and weakened like an amateur
and the wicked wall subsequentially disappeared like a submarine.
Expectations were very high and a craving desire for peace
however Brzezinski had other schemes to raise the barometer.
Soon the Neocons came forward with a proposal for the new century
dissolving the common man's glee that maybe war will someday cease.
The pinnacle of capitalism was yet beyond the Arlington cemetery
somewhere within their game of Risk as they play chess with Excalibur.
Another decade transpired and we blessed the arrival of the Taliban
with an entourage of comical figures perfectly exposed to be criticized.
The clash of the civilizations was becoming an unrealistic manufacture
but the time was ripe for pillage with directed-energy weapons
projected through a laser beam to a satellite, the world to tyrannize.
Exploding plumes in symmetrical display would seal the great release
and perpetrate a disaster with no clear purpose, rhyme or reason.
Unexpectedly the roar sped as a cauliflower hugging our Mother Earth
direction Central Park inexplicably the result of flames and a collision.
Then the fabrication began with sensationalism as we all rubbed our eyes
dumbfounded at the circumstance that the criminal hid in Afghanistan.
Destroying evidence while the three thousand strong counted sublimities
as they assembled amongst Jesus' children and the heavens greeted the caravan.
Celebrating their arrival are the angels as they yield a subtle and sympathetic sigh
and fill the firmament with moisture as each begins to weep upon our forsaken land.
As the state of affairs worsens and the infidels start another massacre
a geological professor finds an abundance of mineral riches hidden from sight.
The peacemakers stand miserably destitute with the fate of the world at hand.
How could this unfortunate gift of Mother Nature worth more than a trillion
be in the grip of vicious racketeers with a stronghold on continuous battle and strife.
Wishing their demise is perhaps not a healthy ode but my God, all the gold bullion
cerium and neodymium will raise the lopsided distribution of power and wealth.
Feeding this all in reverse to the warmongers and how shrill the angels cry
for us to prosper and elevate our expressiveness when the cards are poorly dealt.
Genius' are frozen amidst this incorrigible dilemma eradicating the ancient virtues
which granted us dignity and equanimity with every opportunity in life
to be actualized with no borders or horizons with gorgeous naive faces to enthuse.
From the fugues of Bach to the poems of Goethe we once fathomed the crimson
throne where all inspiration found its home highlighting our existence and esteem.
As the celestial throng pervades we radiate our faith in righteousness as we construe
a wholesome attitude allocating our knowledge and giving of ourselves in generosity.
Lifting the new-born with wings on our shoulders we emulate the ethereal gleam
and share the empathy of our cherubs as they whimper a chorus of universality.
Recollecting the lecture of our jewel of futuristic wonders we implore to redeem
the principles of propriety and share our bounty as is said in the abode of archangels.
Superseding the banality of a grievous greed we join in the whining of their blues
to evoke a unity of complacency as we glory in gratefulness on this Earth to dwell.

Topic(s) of this poem: warning

Form: Ode


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 30, 2016

Poem Edited: Saturday, January 30, 2016


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