Hello wanderer.
God of war.
Ancient over suburbia.
Celestial, bedazzling the oil fields
in the hills over Inglewood.
Mars, and the stars of Orion's Belt.
Plentiful tonight, lovely.
Mars eternal, through angelic, gray, particulate haze.
Eternal through the invisible, holy fellowship of wi-fi.
Eternal through the carcinogens of technology in violent ecstasy.
Eternal through blue-light hour evangelist infomercials, dim pixel prayers for gold and apocalypse. 
Eternal through the empty rib cage of patriotism.
Eternal through the streets protecting hollow statues of hollow men.
Eternal through the spitstorm of exalted trust-fund kids.
Eternal through the posturing of nations.
Eternal through the wanderers,
Gods of war,
lights on the crest of the hills, 
growing closer,
hissing over suburbia,
celestial, bedazzling the oil fields.
Technology in violent ecstasy.
Someone pressed the button

Raya Yarbrough

Singer, Composer, writer of absurd stories about LA, chanteuse on Outlander, BSG, DaVinci's Demons, & I used to date Dick Grayson.