Aryeh

Fast-forward, the zombie cadavers roll in with the tide like strange half-chewed buoys in the drowsy water, the amber waves and soft tyranny of the communist towers ablaze in the distance, a corroded Russian gas station and Chinese factory of phone assembly, the puzzle-piece and robotic arm of a crane lazily groaning neath a backdrop of a war-torn and murdered sky. 

Rewind, scores of suicide bombers hit the mechanical embassy gate, an awkward woman coldly shot down, a camouflage bird on a melancholy wire, the secondary blasts on the running soldiers, the panic and confusion, the banner raised like on some ancient battlefield in Persia, the red-orange moon-dust choking away the air, the cunning of the Arab, the fangs of a viper, the flashes and switches of a power grid going dark, vans detonating, Amerikan drones blotting out the sky, packed with vicious and cruel debris, fatal bacteria and a viral strain more potent than Ebola, the foaming white-hot rabid decay, the gutted bodies look plastic and like slow-melting mannequins in wax and they bubble up and cook under a sunrise to sunset vignette, the Samurai swords and fierce clashes in the Baltics, the Haitian barbecue and dumb savagery of the flatlands, a sodomized Mufti in some African mudhole, the Islamic books burned, the Christian servant shielding their persecutor, Wagner and their henchmen, the rapists and serial killers, an army of madness in the heart of darkness, an army of Hell and all that follows, pale horses tenderly gallop in the daylight shadows, the white-eyes with white feet burnt by white chemicals, the white-phosphorous, a jungle of fire and burning sand, a lion's face in the flames, from our graves the dead shall rise first.