New World Disorder Poem by DM W
New World Disorder
History is doomed to repeat itself.
Empires are built over blood and bones.
Crude power is the ego deified.
Some like to bless the ribs of a carcass.
Others sharpen the teeth of the tiger.
The microcosms of grave disorder
Permeate this world that breeds black flowers.
Flotsam & jetsam; cracked mirrors, dead birds
Ancient superstitions arise in droves,
For nature abhors a vacuum.
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8/10/2025 11:35:00 AM # 1.0.0
