Rev Tiernan ORourke

Rev Tiernan ORourke Jun 2011

I have written a million words and fought a hundred battles.
I have stood against all enemies in all corners of the world.
I have been an agent of destruction and retribution.
I have been a despotic symbol of unyielding authority.
I have been a god of war and slaughter.
But in the face of this new force I am powerless.
I stood against the atom bomb, and bent it to my will.
I broke the tides of imperialism and nationalism, and soon devoured them too, with my insatiable lust.
I have crushed all who have contested against me; no revolution has ever ousted me.
And yet.
In the face of this new force I am powerless.
My atom bomb is enervated.
My armies are decrepit.
My once iron resolution has melted to lackadaisical fancy.
My Tanks, guns, swords and bombs are nothing but flaccid instruments of failed conquest.
Because
For all my inimical *******
I am rendered prostrate before the empyrean power of joy immeasurable.

Rev Tiernan ORourke Jun 2011

Settling and Argument

You have a gun
I have my words
Therefore
You are a king
And I am God

Rev Tiernan ORourke Jun 2011

The Marble Dove

You trade your soul to live forever
And stay, imortally disgraced
You stand in righteous wingspread pose
In you mouth burns freedom’s elusive taste
But never will you fly
You stand through ages
Through empires and wars
But your life is just a lie
You stare with empty eyes
At an ever changing world
You sit in silent longing
For the universe to die
Never satisfied
Never to create
Never to destroy
Never, Never, Never
All your world is void
The iron’s strong
The wood is firm
The water cool
But you the fool
The drum beats
The fiddle sings
But no one envies
Your marble wings
Men will fall
Grow old and die
Empires crumble
Eons pass by
But the marble dove
Will never fly

Rev Tiernan ORourke Jun 2011

The Inherent Beauty of the Mob

the inherent beauty of the mob
is in the fluidity of their anger
it is the colors of burning buildings
the music of guttural chants
the freedom granted by inevitable destruction
and the finality
of their judgment
it is in the perfection of collective enmity
and the clamant rectification of flaws perceived
so that in the end
all that remains
is the disarrayed corpse of the mob
and the excrement of it’s existence
not as a force of humanity
but as a mechanism
of wanton ferality

— The End —