A poem by: Ben Dunk.   January 1982.




Where are you?

And where is the dilemma?

It is on the perennial plaza

Out on the plain of triumph

In the cold and old, wilderness of antiquity.


The stream of weaponry strides forth across the plain

And the Spandau gun divisions rattle and chatter their death chant

To the poor people of the region

Until they cower and flee in fear.

Cry then for the past

Which was by comparison so good

In the days when uneasy peace and minor wars and conflicts prevailed

For now the hypocritical-apocalyptical tyrants tear and emulsify each other

Until only their waste is apparent



Where are you?

I am in the nook of Christendom at the gates of Lebanon

Under the mount of Ararat

In the cleft of country borders

By the brook of spiritual fount

In the after flood place of ship rest

See the fomenting cloud

The dragon speaking fire and ravaging hail

The sun no longer shines from the dark sky

There is agonizing dust everywhere in the air

Carried on hurricane winds eastward, ever eastward

Over the hills and valleys

Across the oceans and seas

Encircling the Globe

Permeating every parlour and pantry


Where are you?

Not untouched

Nowhere else, other than underground in the safe prepared hold

Reach into the ground then

Dig your unremitting tomb of life and death

Stock shelves for the long duration

Dare not creep out in the drastic landscape or fry

Beware your neighbours ire, they’re no longer friendly

They’ll embrace you and you’ll die

Then, they’ll eat you, and,

Where are you?