New Occidental Poetry

Gotham Heights

An apocalyptic glow
runs to the mountains
that are not really mountains at all.
They are but the towering mansions
of the one class that can escape
the tedium and the ennui.

The rest cannot sleep,
but rather consume to fill in the unhappiness—
the fake, plastic trees and garish eateries
where once there was life.
This is now the cathedral
for those who never be saved.

Thank God for this civilization,
as the lights reach the heights
and never shine again.

-Benjamin Welton

Arthur PowellBenjamin Welton