Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

You Can't Fight Us

by Suzanne Schenk

There are alien shapes in these midnight skies but I'm making them.
My brothers and I are climbing up, rising up,
Founding our future up there.

We're painting the sky the colour of a gun
To match the steel in our eyes,
Our metropolitan mistress's smile.

One sky, one kind, one smile, one mind.
And we're almost there.

Our heralds are the posters on every street
With their airbrushed rush of perfect smiles and eyes burning
With the fire of the faithful.

Our prophets are the pop stars and their cheering teenaged priests
Bleeding sincere tears to hide the same sweet melody year after year.
Our piercing theme of unity in every peer to peer steam of similarity,
A sweet theme that competes only with your screams of ectasy
As we bash your ears repeatedly.

But theres no need to worry.

Its the same ringing, singing all the days, ways of our evolution.
Its one thousand generations of primates beating
Each others' Technicolour brains in.
Its the natural selection for symmetrical souls.
Its breeding out the freaks.

The future is calling me brother and its almost out of breath.
It talks of gas masks, black flags, drugs to dull,
Towers and cages, sublime slavery.
The glorious unity of lunacy is coming.
Salting the fields,
Boiling the seas,
Making the world a great desert to write our name in.

So that years from now,
Some alien flying by on a cosmic joyride
Will look down on the ruined and grinning face of our one God
And stare.

And go home.

And build our temples there.

Added: 30.04.2010

Judges' comments on this poem

13.05.2010

Dig the cadence.

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