Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Atlas Slugged

John Beam Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Atlas Slugged which was written by poet John Beam. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

Read Poems by John Beam

Best John Beam Poems

+ Fav Poet

Atlas Slugged

An Atlas slugged hanging from his foot by a noose of his own makings                protocols of destruction these consider themselves elders faking				   copper smiths of there own design over their head in the swelling ford 		        just because they consider themselves little gods does not make them Lord	                    their report from iron mountain a disneying witch mountain					  enticed they lay in wait for the own blood a broken stagnant fountain                 	          War was a part of the economy the people expendable ammo		                 reasons stand if you tell a lie long enough it is still a lie bravo		              extraterrestrial the devil and demons cast out of heaven 				            waiting ever thousand years for there batman wedden					               dark eleventh knight their superman universal grey ghost 				               what ever to hide the truth from the majority of the host 					          by peace the anti-christ will destroy many policy twenty-one					       they are unhinged four atop in eight different languages but accord one	                look at their Georgia Guide stones their end justifies their means 				 heaped behind curtains of oz down under their wizardly machine        		               with their false commandments ten of their sorite cities where all 			              motors stopped but they cant get off stuck in their throat a voodoo doll                 drinking tainted blood of a Moravian dynasty of a Tiburtine Sibyl                                   reruns of a Orwellian Blavatsky’s snuff books of hidden uncivil			              they talk to their Seth's try to be gods without God oldest lie there is		        methodius of a pseudo Mithra's as Jezebel the false prophetess                           trampled of horse and rider ate by the dogs an unrecognizable burial vault                     cast in the field of iniquity like white dung a pillar of salt					         unknowingly predicts her own death not at the hands of her false gods stabbed 	          but by the True and Living God And thou shalt smite the house of Ahab 		        thy master,that I may avenge the blood of my servants the prophets, 	                        and the blood of all the servants of the LORD, at the hand of Jezebel.																							                                                                                                                                           				

Post Comments

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.