Hello, Blacklist, my old friend
I knew you’d show your face again
And toll the bell for decent men
Amid the sound of sirens
In restless dreams, I walk alone
Down newly-unpaved county roads
Past newly-empty rows of homes
Amid the sound of sirens
The words of the prophets
Have been edited to bits
Censored, spun and shadowbanned
And flash-banged in the blitz
Condemned for every speech
Before they have the chance to spit
That their spit might dare to touch
The sound of sirens
And all our slaughtered prophets
like some human hailstones, fell,
and drowned in liquid Afghan funds
That Biden froze himself
For hours, we endured their voices
Crying out for help
As they echoed in the well of Sirens
Their words were scrubbed from subway walls
Fed to the tigers of Tammany Hall
And our constitution,
encompassing all,
within the sound of sirens
And all our leaders bowed and prayed
and mourned the corpses they all made,
lit candles at their pauper’s graves
And blessed the Sound Of Sirens
They wrung their hands to empty air
Since they’d allowed no cameras there,
And nothing changed, and no one dared
Disturb the Sound Of Sirens
“Fools,” said I,
“You do not know
What tempest, in this country, grows
That soon will swell to lay you low
Consume you in its undertow”
“What human waves, what human foam
Will wash your gorgeous, gilded homes
As far away as Ancient Rome,
and drown the sound of sirens.”
So use your voice,
that it might teach,
these numbered days our voice has reach
and cry, that all might hear your speech,
Above The Sound Of Sirens
A collaborative ode to the mythology and culture of the Czech Republic, pairing meditative poetry with menacing sounds. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 12, 2022