The animal garden
Is now a murder-hole.
Language was always the Labyrinth.
Civilisation is striving, spurning
starving, burning
mass graves and marble tombs,
wonderful wine and no-one to drink it with
but the Black Riders
the achievers, civilised dealers
in death, machine-mad
half-controlling the machine.
They are the forms of desire
(suppression of grace, the soul's death)
stencils of men,
power-bleak, power-black
teeth in the maw
of perpetual war
against Nature and grace
as the planet of pain and vainglory
hurtles through space.
Anthony Weir
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-motto-of-capitalism-enough-is-not-enough/
