O spindling reason, close thy soiled and gruesome jaw’s Surging rationale like a thimble of water to thirst; We’ve no blood left to drip our cheerless dreams!
Dreadful is our cresting obsession with greed, Horrible is our pale service to the lords of death And monstrous our empire’s approaching fury!
The waters flow with the slake of our wickedness And these vile works speed the thunderous fortunes Of the sacred beasts come to change what we would not...
O why can’t we see that our indifference to rigid awe Has the world’s doorways strangled with skeletons And unearthed the creatures quivering wings?
Like a mother in the shadow of night we can, if we choose, Erect a grand temple from out of our bosomed courage And quell this; our trembling loam of mounting death!
Bring forth your kinship with the frayed cloth of man And rise up in great hordes to defeat the thugs of mayhem And spring eternal the gates to the shrine of hope…
Surging rationale like a thimble of water to thirst;
We’ve no blood left to drip our cheerless dreams!
Horrible is our pale service to the lords of death
And monstrous our empire’s approaching fury!
And these vile works speed the thunderous fortunes
Of the sacred beasts come to change what we would not...
Has the world’s doorways strangled with skeletons
And unearthed the creatures quivering wings?
Erect a grand temple from out of our bosomed courage
And quell this; our trembling loam of mounting death!
And rise up in great hordes to defeat the thugs of mayhem
And spring eternal the gates to the shrine of hope…
Copyright © 2007 mrp / thepoetryman