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literature
A Massive Mass Indeed.
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Literature Text
Fear empties the pockets of
The Blind, the Beautiful, and the
Modern Rebel.
That wrecking salesman of
This wretched scheme,
Where your Beauty is insufficient,
And your Body lies in disrepair...
Your Hunger for the
Lustful eyes of the Blind,
The caring moans of the Deaf sycophants.
Your money feeds your fears.
Your eyes feed your fears.
Your fears feed your purpose,
And your purpose feeds your
Iscariot Heart.
Your Gospel spoken in whispers, drunken
With tones of Convenience...
Glazed with compromise, it's churned out
In tonnage...
All to burn in piles in
Effigies to Hypocrisy.
Your mirror says it all.
Your clothes speak your proverbs,
Your technology preaches of your
Elitist Honeysuckle Advertising...
Sorrow, Grief are drowned in
Chemicals and ceramic smiles.
All to feed a fear impregnated into your eyes
By a world who cannot bear to see it's own shame.
My eyes know better.
Your God is not Money.
Your God is not Sex.
Your God is not Vanity, or Gluttony, or
Idols of Stone, and Wood, and Bronze...
I've seen how you caress the
Shadows and reflections your personages exhume...
Your are your own Gods.
Servants to thine self.
Priests to your own righteousness.
Preachers of your own salvation.
How I mourn God like these you are...
For the day you find that you bleed like me,
That crimson flows from King and Serf without respect,
Sorrow will paint these streets in colours never meant
For human eyes.
Then, gods will fear what they do not understand.
Then, they will know fear.
But.....I know better.
Revolutionaries time and again speak to the sheep of this world.
Impending doom on their lips, rebellion in their hearts.
But it is not until the cold blade of truth is felt against the beating hearts
Of the ignorant, that they understand that Death, like Fate, smiles on one and all alike.
That there is and end, and that some on this earth, will run towards it, and not away.
Impending doom on their lips, rebellion in their hearts.
But it is not until the cold blade of truth is felt against the beating hearts
Of the ignorant, that they understand that Death, like Fate, smiles on one and all alike.
That there is and end, and that some on this earth, will run towards it, and not away.
© 2013 - 2024 Ph03n1x-Orion
Comments2
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Like the sixth stanza best.