burying the art of our age <br /> <br />Sand dunes <br />in the Yucca Mountains <br />tell an ancient tale <br />of annihilation, <br />the moan of centuries <br />the only sound of inhabitance <br />in this stark Mesopotamia. <br />A chilled wind blows <br />history lessons through the <br />dust, past crumbling structures <br />and lost cultures, <br />the art <br />of our age underground. <br /> <br />Wandering survivors <br />roaming the empty desert: <br />take heed <br />of this sculptor’s dark dream <br />when you see it- <br />these guardians <br />who perch upon neon dirt, <br />with spikes and spirals <br />and the snarls of our people, <br />live to feed your fear <br />with visual tales <br />of an eon in mourning <br />- <br />Children, stop. <br />Stay away from here. <br /> <br />(we’ve left death in a time capsule for you) <br /> <br />In this, our Egyptian tomb <br />scattered with traps for <br />gravediggers, <br />there is no gold, only <br />our radioactive remains and <br />the disease we’ve left for you, <br />crafted <br />by our generation’s <br />best toxic artists <br />self-slaughtered for fame <br />on every hard-ly l- <br />earned textbook page <br />and for silence <br />brewing beneath their graves. <br /> <br />“Ozymandius” <br />the hillsides lie, <br />this art will not last <br />but explode like Atlantis. <br /> <br />Were they proud of their creation? <br />they'll wonder, and <br /> <br />Will they know if we felt shame?<br /><br />Zoe Nyght<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/burying-the-art-of-our-age/
