Lucifer on Air Strikes
The jets! How beautiful they are!
Like arrows thirsty for hearts blood.
Birds so smooth in flashing speed
That flesh and feathered beasts
Which fly by hearts labor are nothing!
These other birds, these jets—
They fly by fire!
They consume in rav'ning gulps so swiftly taken
They are passed before they can be seen.
Those other birds just live—
Sowing seed of grass and flower
Which grow and bend beneath the driving wind.
And they continue!
They renew themselves and all the filthy grass
Which greens the earth—
But the other birds—the jets—
The flowers that they sow do not renew.
They burst and roar and spread on gusts of wind
which they create,
When Napalm blooms upon the waving grass.
A wind which bends all things before it,
And carries a perfume so sweet it cannot be forgot
Through all eternity.
They bring eternity, the jet sown flowers,
Ushered in with orange and crimson petals
Of delicate devouring flame as ravenous for earth
As streaking jets are hungry for the sky.
Wondrous birds! Delicious blossoms!
Reeking buds in damnation's door yard
Carried to the earth on back swept wing
With blazing hearts and empty souls.
And when the fires bloom I smile
Remembering that when creatures burn
I am nearer than any other time.
I am marvelous near.
