Kevin Heaton

Lost Continuum

Matter was formed then
came together, gathering
 
in the firmament. A fiery
orb of change was created
 
and given dominion,
illuminating the stars upon
 
which we gaze. Opportune
powers of stealth and cunning
 
fleeced our bastions of finance;
feeding the spoils
 
to Eastern Dragons.
The riverbed deepens, erosion
 
pulls at the roots of the mighty
sycamore, it succumbs.
 

 Morn Not Her Passing
　

"Babylon The Great
 
is fallen", who will
right her?
  No one,
for she is not.
Crushed beneath
the weight of self
and apathy, captive
to vanity; as great
  Alexander,
empires into dust.
This fickle mistress
not hence regarded;
bone marrow filtered
through hourglass sand,
  ashes.
Remnants of armies,
anthems no longer sung,
  forgotten.
　
 
 
 
 
Kevin Heaton © 2010
 

In Retrospect

Civil societies
do not
  forever
flourish sown
upon the servile
pain and
  suffering
of those whose
inherent rights
are vested in
the
  blood
of a higher
baptism. The
land I have
come to love
still
  mourns
the amourous
embrace of
immoral
  prejudice.

Kevin Heaton © 2010