Glory be, to the Tasteless Future | Momus Najmi | TWOM

'Glory be, to the tasteless future'

When you are done tearing down 
the walls that blood of others' built,
Crumbling the foundations laid down 
by your fathers' fathers and theirs.

When you are done razing the church halls
to the ashes of forgotten past,
The values that took generations to
chisel, now cremated in your denialism.

When you are done opening the gates for
enemies to mingle with the traducers within,
The flowers that once under our sun grew,
trampled, never again to bloom.

Then, as your paltry neck is being
tightened, and your eyes popping out
staring at the jeering crowd, gathered
to watch you dance your last dance 
under the arbour of the big oak tree.

From whence an acorn once used to fall
to the delight of a squirrel or two 
Now a rope hangs strong to deliver
justice to whom dare squeak dissent.

Then, perhaps then, you will come to realise
that what took so long to build, 
which you helped demolish, was not so bad 
now that it is your turn to say goodbye.

Why me? Why me? You remonstrate
as they gag your muffling squeal,
If only you had asked that question when 
the premonition of vainglory imprisoned you.

Blinding you to the probabilities
borne out by reality, the echoes of history,
A reality now, you doomed us all to suffer,
Let glory be, to the tasteless future.

- Momus Najmi