Barbarians (πᾶς μὴ Ἕλλην βάρβαρος)

everybody's talking about

the war that no-one's talking about:

sizing up sides

stitching flags on the insides

of hollow eyelids

branding the kids with irons.

everybody knows

it's everybody else's house 

that's on fire.

everybody's banging on

the drum that no-one's beating:

sounding alarms

moving back to farms

of their ancestors or

trading cash for a subdermal chip.

everybody knows 

that hip 

is the new death of hip.

everybody's hearing horses

at the gates of gilded cities

just off the edge

of the white map of sleep.

we each decide

if we walk or we ride

if we're out or inside

that circle of light.

everybody knows

the barbarians 

are always right.