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Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Cult

The world is full of rage and violence
Children of the first world sleep, and dream
Lazily, as untroubled as the lotus eaters, lost
Victims slumbering like Circe’s swine, fat
Fed and herded by their glowing screens
In quiet anonymity, to the digital slaughter
The abandon of youth, bucolic and confused
They attend the altars, sleep in high places
            On beds in the ether

This tortured world is angry, desperate
Its children consumed by a relentless hunger
Six billion bodies, in a sacrifice of blood
The howling wind cuts at their flesh, bones
As ancient travesties play out again, again
On the hot-dry earth, thirsty for their pain
Never sated, mother goddess, she-wolf
Nursemaid to Romulus, to murdered Remus
             Wailing like a banshee
             
The hearts of the innocent, devoured
Ravaged in the floating world, sold
Cycles of guilt and atonement, liars
Seize on the living like birds of prey
The priesthood is a brood of raptors
Taking lives, twisting minds, thieves
Hustlers, playing at a shell game, wagering
With the all-seeing, knowing, listening

God-thing in their hand