The Dirty Bomb To Come

The Dirty Bomb to Come

/ They quote old scrolls / in the desert heat,

/ Faith forges bombs / that their gods repeat,

/ / Little Satan strikes / with a righteous plea,

/ / Great Satan cheers / from across the sea.

/ Holy mound gleams / 'neath the morning sun,

/ Rabbis pray hard / for the wall to run,

/ / "Never again," / echoes through the stone,

/ / Strike them first / ere they claim their own.

/ Tehran roars back / with the ancient fire,

/ "Zion's puppets / in empire's mire,"

/ / Great Satan looms / with axis-of-evil ink,

/ / Little Satan bites / on the war's cruel brink.

/ Three faiths collide / on the selfsame sand,

/ Each with a book / and a trigger hand,

/ / Scriptures of fire / from the heavens fall,

/ / Burning earth black / poisoned waters call.

/ Wormwood star drops / makes the rivers die,

/ Unleavened days / when the sky lets fly,

/ / Fire from above / like the plagues of old,

/ / Bread in their mouths / as the future's sold.

/ Your holy place / becomes ground zero,

/ Geiger ticks loud / in the afterglow,

/ / Still they wait / but no biblical hero,

/ / Faith's empty throne / in the fallout snow.

/ You decorate bombs / with the faces of men,

/ Saints on the shells / to absolve the sin,

/ / Drop on kindergartens / sting them again,

/ / Little ones shredded / in the prophet's pen.

/ School of children / all became zero,

/ Desks into dust / tiny shoes a hero,

/ / Chalkboard prayers / smeared in crimson flow,

/ / Still they wait / but no biblical hero.

/ No god descends / no messiah wakes,

/ Just human rage / and the ground that shakes,

/ / Dirty bomb dust / on the wailing stone,

/ / Holy mound glows / in radiation's throne.

/ Ezekiel's hail / sulfur brimstone rain,

/ Revelation smoke / turns the pure to pain,

/ / They built the fate / that the pages named,

/ / Atheist's shrug / as the world is flamed.

/ Panic in streets / cancer years away,

/ Lungs fill with ash / bones decay to gray,

/ / Blast rips the flesh / but the spirit stays,

/ / Waiting for signs / in the end-time haze.

/ One-way track laid / by belief's blind train,

/ Prophecies carved / now they chase the pain,

/ / No heaven calls / just the mortal game,

/ / Dirty bomb comes / and they shout its name.