September 11, 2001
I am many things. Right up at the top of the list is an AMERICAN. A close second is a writer. So when our country was barbarically, savagely senselessly attacked by nameless faces, I turned to my pen and paper. I wrote this piece. In memory of those who died. In honor of those who died. In honor of their family and to hopefully unify us under a universal language: Art.
9/11 Crash Course in American History
Sand sifting for more gold.
Strip mining for more coal.
Reaching down for more than depression.
Balls of fire, kill more than any challenger.
Aviation from the Wright to the Wrong "Cide."
I see a charred ashy face.
Nightmare on Elm Street style.
I feel the mercury racing from my eyes to his corpse.
I feel the gold we were looking for in 1849.
This man was married.
Somewhere children eat candy.
They rejoice the monster is dead.
Parents laugh as a nightmare in Manhattan unfolds.
I sense the coal, we were looking for.
In the hearts of ignorance.
Reach down 107 floors
Dusty snow in September doesn't melt.
Infinity traces time on it's way down
More than a 1920s depression
Eyeless, overpowering lawless AWE.
4 balls of Fire
Mommy's and Daddy's can't get home from work.
It's snowing in New York
It's snowing wings and cinder and
Tears from a mechanical god
Tears from a bastard.
He is creator
he is destroyer
he sends the flood.
he burns the bush.
Who is he?
He is the one with the power.
The one who ceases it.
He is the one who kills.
He is the one who plays god.
Is the one who woke the sleeping monster
Sorry kids, he wasn't sleeping
choke on your fucking candy.
As for now
we sift and
reach for something left.
To feel the hands, warm or cold
The only thing worse than knowing the truth
is not knowing at all.
Copyright © 2001 by Shawn Simmons. All rights reserved.