Endarkened father and potentially enlightened son, a third generation looking into a chilling storm.

What are they facing?

The Gods of Prey to whom we pray for peace wave sacred plumage over chips boosted from silos beneath moonless lands, omens smeared with the scent of enemy blood.

A cathedral radiates from its center
endless circles of corpses, brilliant pebbles
tossed into heart of death.

In a paradise of acronyms, BONZO dreams of the ultimate banana hanging like a WIMP within HOPE of his beaming arms. A real WACKO of an image consummated, seemingly, in a SAFE place. But when he wakes, the impulse keeps its inertia, refusing to STOP.

Even a protective device can shield the passage of life in a venture of miscarried fantasies of security designed with no strings attached. High on lasants and lucrative grants, an incoherent light in their eyes, scientists dazzle the darkest of political aims.