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