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Post-9/11 Poetry By Daniel Pelligrine

Post-9/11 Poetry By Daniel Pelligrine

(c) Copyright 2013. All Rights Reserved. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Ever since the tragic events of September 11th, 2001, the United States has become a world dominating superpower, with full spectrum dominance of land, sea, air, space, and cyberspace. To compliment its globe spanning hegemony the largest empire the world had ever seen created a surveillance state comparable to the worst imaginations of George Orwell. In this new Post-9/11 world, extrajudicial murder, torture, and warrantless wiretapping became the new “acceptable” with the American public passively accepting its government’s new policies at home and abroad. These poems are my attempt at voicing some of the frustrations I have been dealing with. After all, twelve years of my twenty-two year life have been lived under this new technologically dominant superstate. The effects of which on me, and the entirety of my generation, are yet to be known. Fear of today and uncertainty

about tomo as I watch travel the c

Just as the this War o late to pres generation the fear of my genera fear, and ig suffer?

orrow. That’s how I feel everyday the news, drive the streets, and city.

e Cold War ended, so too must on Terror. But will it be too serve what’s left of the first n in five decades to live without nuclear annihilation? Or will ation succumb to the same hate, gnorance that the Baby Boomers



John of Patmos wrote Revelation during fits of fever induced hysteria. Little did he know that the war he imagined would be fought with high yield Terawatt Chemical lasers, depleted uranium munitions, and tactical nuclear warheads. Two millennia ago he had no concept of the magnitude of destruction which man could bring to bare.

Nor did he understand the extent of his own madness and sadder yet, neither do those who cite him today. A politics written in prison, read now as a prophecy. An excuse to unleash the Ter-Weps we labored so hard to create. A final solution given justification by a selffulfilling prophecy of delusion.



Crimson ash fell from a sky cracked opened like an egg And through the gash we saw the eyes of God. Harsh shadows stretched across the suddenly fetid landscape. and it reeked of corruption Something all together wrong. Worse than any nuclear storm any cosmic catastrophe the gaze of Shiva descended. A sensual lupine figure flying through reality, devoid of dimension. With bounds and leaps it brought itself close Confronting us. Now it was a Ram. Then an Eagle. It was clear, it was above any human desire for symbol. It was undefinable, unknowable The UnGod. Not merely wrong, but beyond any notion of right.

Represenative Michael Fitzgerald of Pennsylvania shares his plans for overturning Obamacare with a private audience of business owners in Lahaska, Bucks County.



Along a sand swept road of burnt out cars Decades of oppression fu individuals made their way as hosts of workers from through the remains of a once opulent metropolis. Malaysia, and the People streets. But the revolution had come and like a storm out of the desert They fought at great cost swept away the tyranny which had ruled. rallies, and many martyr made. Arise workers of Dubai, the slogan had gone, But a specter had taken o and seize the reigns of the land you have made! masses, driving them to The word had gone out: Kill every Emir.

ueled the immigrant’s rage m Pakistan, Nigeria, India, e’s Republic flooded the

t, at the barricades and rs of the Revolution were

over the minds of the kill every last Arab Fascist.

Earth was scorched, horrors unleashed. But as the Mechanized Cossacks of the Emir closed in, they turned their cannon against the Autocrat. Those officer’s not turned red were summarily executed. Revolutions are rarely tidy affairs. But they do have a tendency to perpetuate themselves.

Post 9/11 Poetry