leaves no mess behind.

No bloody, tortured, wracked remains

lovingly removed by tender hands,

captured by innumerable painters since–

Titian, Tintoretto–placed in a tomb only to rise

three days later–you know the rest.

“Where technology meets free markets”

some sonofabitch corporate wit

at some sonofabitch ad-hitman company,

provides the latest pentagon pimp

its current motto, gloriously displayed

in dying color at their website, showing,

30 billion dollars compressed into

the finest jet that ever killed

your mother, your kid, your spouse, yourself.

Targeted assassinations, pre-emptive strikes

brought to us by sleek cabals,

cannibalistic election-stealers,

crying “freedom… democracy… New World Order. …”

(but whatever happened to the “War on Poverty”?).

Twenty percent of the world’s wealth

owned by the top 1 percent of Americans

living behind their gates as in castles

protected by moats–and we’re back

in the age of dungeons and dragons,

Torquemada, the true faith, the iron maiden,

and Roman legionnaires

gambling for the sacred, gored mantle.

But I forget…

We’ve got a couple millennia of “progress” now.

No more mantle to gamble for,

unless you’re thinking to re-connect

the various atoms/electrons

by some kind of nano-tech wizardry.

Christ’s blood blasted into

ten billion droplets dispersed in the sky

falls in a pinkish mist

where free markets meet technology.