The Grand Tour (Poetry)
19th February 2023
Let me guide you through the ruins of this life
although in grandeur not the Parthenon
they mark the spot as some ironic proof
of what once was, then crumbled — almost gone
Our vulgar temples gloryfying flesh
youth and fame & fortune — all are dust
we sacrificed glad bodies without rest
as though there was no end to need or lust
On walls of bone hang tattered wrecks of skin
smoking wreaths of old impotent prayers
but the gods in their own dotage wandering
have had enough of mortal woes and cares
We are as shells — our architecture worn
by battles, weather, time and all Fate throws
it’s no surprise the vision was undone
and now the full extent of damage shows
The world’s a bombsite and we made this war
played with fire and now we’ve all been burnt
yet greed survives while mighty towers fall
and keep on falling ... lessons still unlearnt
although in grandeur not the Parthenon
they mark the spot as some ironic proof
of what once was, then crumbled — almost gone
Our vulgar temples gloryfying flesh
youth and fame & fortune — all are dust
we sacrificed glad bodies without rest
as though there was no end to need or lust
On walls of bone hang tattered wrecks of skin
smoking wreaths of old impotent prayers
but the gods in their own dotage wandering
have had enough of mortal woes and cares
We are as shells — our architecture worn
by battles, weather, time and all Fate throws
it’s no surprise the vision was undone
and now the full extent of damage shows
The world’s a bombsite and we made this war
played with fire and now we’ve all been burnt
yet greed survives while mighty towers fall
and keep on falling ... lessons still unlearnt