O, Ozymandias, the king of kings,
setting sun mocks your torso, wind erodes
your remains, where sand builds castles and sings
and sculpts the wind. Cities crumble and roads
crosshatch the remains, Nile thunders and wears,
your flesh diffuses in the air, eyes crush
and coalesce in a blind arc that bears
military junkets, where brined blood rush
like raging waters of Niagra falls.
Cleopatras are the billboard beauties,
Caesars build coliseums and fire walls,
leaders barter sand and collect booties
where Sphinx plays Chinese whisper with fireflies,
Pyramids are geometries of lies. 
 
Copyright©2005, Debashish Haar