beneath a narcissistic blue moon

a race empty of allusive ingenuity

yet, by dint of narrated tradition

perhaps only the wary Babylonians

could likely fathom an explanation

unravel the superfluous answer

solve the conundrum of life itself

sadly, wise Babylonia is no more

long since buried under Assyrian sands

The Book of Puzzlement with them

not so the riddle of ruthless death

too easy that ho-hum solution

we can shout from the rooftops

callously brag as never previous

for today we fabricate

most excellent bombs

better than yesterday’s

piss poor misfits

and tomorrow?

worthier explosives still

the finesse of cruel wipe-out is ours

any doubters?

ask the children of war

from their eclipsed graves

unblemished resting places

they sing their harrowing song

to those who will listen