Sonnet 24 Poem by doug bentley

tragedy struck last night on the tv screen.
there's no turning away from this conclusion.
wings of the age bring war. a phoenix scream
chills blood. our children inherit confusion.

the mass mess has not been plugged
nor berlin wall in our brain lifted siege;
our future by mad sciences is drugged;
Vine infected by anarchies of mad age;

the sacred by profane has been defamed;
minds harnessed to mindless patterns;
the quality of mercy has been strained;
our center lost in centrifugal motions.

tragedy is the climax, not end of life,
but mindless tragedy is fate of strife.