Albany Poetry 
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Old Glory

Robert Pipes

September 11, 2001

The sword of religon sparkles in justice
So bright that i am blinded by both sides

Kaleidoscopic spins

Am I drunk with divine power
Or questioned by a sophistic devil?
I felt something beautiful and i don't know what it was

Did I feel provential winds
Blowing back the smoke and
Opening the gates of heaven

For a moment I saw his face warmly inclined
To the reckless vulnerablity of freedom
Glancing down at his children
As terrorist and victim alike ascended into paradise
I felt something

Like nonsense
As I was crushed by absolute nothingness
What left me except dying life?

Maybe I should have felt it earlier
Survival motivates,
Life degenerates, and entropy is our destiny
Hasten life to propegate belief
And survive.

The spinning array of color leaves me alone
Baking under florescent light
Watching replays over and over
Until divine power could not be felt

Now I wander through the dry sands and swirling wind
Deserted in reality just like you
Lonely, without faith in belief.

October, 2001