Modern Crusades (Sitap) Poem by Pierre Rausch

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
Wth their stones set in mysterious perfection
:
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns

Sat in the airplane that looked tiny above
Swam in the ocean on right side in front
Looked down on flakes as aircraft
Looked down on flakes as crip and crop
Looked down on flakes as space jet

Since I forgot you to the cane
Walked that aisle as member of crew, companion
Stood on sidewalk, I didn’t know too well
Exit talipot
Exit decent gallipot

He is such an anorak
Contrast, rub it to be segregate
On the phone,838188
Toward decent worry of summer serenade