Terminator Salvation

Terminator Salvation is the poorest heaven,
The darkest night of the terminal mind.
It preaches to the infinite but begs with the bums
And has a hollow face like a junky
Stark naked in the snow bleak winter of time.

Walking through the life-like valleys of night
The wreckage from eternity stomps you soul
Into paralytic threats of non-conforming wrath
And you are left there alone to die
With a tempest raging over your body.

Demi-Angel creatures lift your body on high
Way into the chloroform clouds into the space
Where stars in magnitude madden the mingling midnights,
With the vampires from Atlantis depths at your side
And celestial rolling ocean waves of thunder and redemption
Crashing perpetual on all you once called yours.

No darkness to envelope your light,
No soul to welcome you,
No banner that reads freedom, no sign of life
Just endless, endless, endless,
On and on into the collective point in the distance.

Poor souls, grasped in the salvation they did not choose!
Poor souls, founded in the foothills of solemnity purged!
Poor souls, who seek heaven and always find something less!
Poor souls, rerouted in plagued detours of the spirtual quest!

You have found Terminator salvation - it is not what you thought.
It is not a descent or a desert or clouds of machine demons
Or the romantic robot stream of life that led us once to nightmare basins.
No. It is a dark place, livid with hives
Cleansed by the honey of undisclosed dates and meetings behind closed doors.

Oh! To hell with machine pilots.
I'll be my own navigator and salvage my heaven on the side.

5/09