Desert Chant: Something a bit more serious

"Desert Chant" is the second of the works I have finished for the American Noose project. This poem was originally laid out on the one year anniverarsy of the 9/11 tradegy. I had purposely held off on writing about it to make sure that I was writing my true feelings and not impulse ones. "Desert Chant" reflects that sorrow and anger that I feel towards all the people in power that did their arrogant parts in the destruction, and I am referring to more than just the terrorists and the prescribed "enemy."

“Ta se ag cur” is an Irish phrase meaning "It is raining."



Desert Chant

They have wholly failed to wreck the rooster’s remembrance
With the eagle’s errands,
While I waste a walk through the desert of irrelevance.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

The sand, dry and yet so soiled, scrapped the scars on my feet
While grains underfoot gave me
The sneaking suspicion of George Orwell’s dreaded deceit.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

Allowed to cast critical complaints toward the torn sky,
Yet am angrily advised
To never rudely snarl, “Ra, Ra, Ra” at the false sun’s lie.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

I met a token trader scratching the sand with pretense.
Pinning me with sharp green eyes,
He said, “ta se ag cur,” but I mistook it for nonsense;
However, the Fool has licked at the last lick of the flame
And, at last, dispossessed me.
Now I relish the resurrection of John Brown’s true fame.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

My travels were no longer tainted by being in vain,
For I have found what I sought:
To be justified by the Joshua tree’s knowledge gain.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

Beneath the bent limbs, I held the found skull close to me quick
And listened to the wind whine,
As I feared the wind’s wet thumbs would fault its flickering wick.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

As I hung the skull around my collar, thought of O’ Keefe,
And enjoyed the tree’s cool shade,
I spat a challenge on the ground, drowning dust, at the Thief.

“I will not be silenced.
(I am the rooster)
I will not yield the hunt.
(I am the wolf)
I will not forget the slain.
(I am the gunslinger)
I will not forget the slain.”

Yes, a remembrance of the rooster
Among the desert of irrelevance.