Zell's Hell
(on the speech of Senator Zell Miller at the Republican National Convention, Sept. 1, 2004)
'Twas in the seventh circle, its third part,
Dante with Virgil in infernal realms
Saw sinners damned for Violence to Art.
Running with blood, a red rill rings that plain
Of burning sand, where naked wraiths assailed
By flakes of flame, cry out in endless pain.
Now by his recent speech, another comes
To join those souls stretched on the searing ground
From the assembly of satanic sons.
Bear witness what his paltry prose express:
"It is the soldier, not the reporter
Who has giv'n us the freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet, who
Has given us freedom of speech." And yet
He roused the cheers of a crusading crew,
That riotous assembly who claim Christ their lord
Yet blaspheme God, profaning sacred Scripture
Which is, as self-described, a doubl'edge sword.
Therein, in the beginning was the Word.
The Word became flesh and a living poem.
By Him, the words "Let there be light" were heard.
And poets that glance from Heav'n to earth, from earth
To Heav'n, giving a name to airy nothing,
Toil His tradition that brought life to birth.
The poet has won not just freedom of speech
But earned the right, in priesthood to mankind,
To prophesy, to minister, to teach.
We also read in holy scroll unfurled
Our battle is not against flesh and blood
But with "rulers of darkness in this world,
Spiritual wickedness in high places."
Then in this struggle there can be no basis
For soldiers and their military bases.
So when that senator from Georgia spoke
To cheers at the Republican convention,
He sealed his doom that Heaven's wrath awoke.
With Dante's help, we see how hapless Zell,
His treasure stored on earth and not in Heaven,
Is fitted for his fitting fit in Hell.