Tristan Robert Lange
Breaking from Babylon
It used to be sung,
“I’ll be ready
When Babylon comes for I.”
When and I.
The liminal void between
Conjunctive subordination
And collective object,
Yet profoundly subject,
Dead serious in defiance.
It was never my song to sing,
I, who live within its walls,
The gardens hanging in lush view.
It’s wonderful how songs sung
Sail deep,
To places dark,
Reaching captives within the captor.
When Babylon comes...
Babylon has come—
He came,
Called himself fucking great,
Like a white, wet dream,
The kind that makes one scream—
Dried up, crusted,
Flaking off a used sock.
These flakes,
White, but with hearts right,
Rise up angry,
Recognizing the plight,
Of all taken by Babylon in might.
The fright has become trite.
Babylon, empire reigning,
Who has come for I,
I is ready.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.