Poetry-Thing Thursday: In Place of Dreams

I hear sirens in the distance,
over a foreground of dogs barking,
and the passing folly of man’s device.

They called us explorers,
when we reached this land,
then after rape and pillaging,
they called us masters–
And behind our backs, bastards.

Can’t blame ‘em, I guess.
Or at least, I don’t.
‘Cause in the end,
they’ll have their revenge.

We took this land by force, to reverie,
like we took their innocence.
They begged us only to till the land,
instead we cut and bled her, stole her purity.

They called us masters and bastards,
then the sun burned us down,
but we re-rose from the ashes,
and took earth as our own.

And now I hear sirens, and barking, and distant screams;
The latest of us to bake and broil in the evil we wrought.
In the end they got the last laughs,
and we nightmares in place of dreams.