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As those inflicted by greed and corruption
become Angels of death stalking the land
with crimson flaming eyes
they search for those chosen to die
and fill their stomachs with satisfaction
to quench their thirst and hunger

The arguments are many from the lips
of those so inflicted
they laugh out loud at those who crawl
and wither on their bellies swollen from hunger
beneath poluted skies of warm air

These lies are plucked like fruit from a dying
tree of reason, succulent portions to be eaten
through the ages like sacrifical lambs
carted down the road of insanity
to the hidden altar of greed and corruption

It's where men gather their armies
complete with marching bands
as they bow before the annotated false God
with eyes of exhalation
these inflicted souls, these open sores 
lay torn on Nature's flesh
pounding their blood soaked fists upon their chest
sreaming "I am here"
wrapping their well fed bodies in the cloaks of Priests
praying on Sunday, devoid of morality the rest of the week
sitting in judgment, demanding money for the chosen few

Blood drips from their callosed and cold hands
from the digging of graves
that lay in the graveyard of expectations
from a promised ring

Those they leave unburied lay on the side of the road
their trampled flesh left to be devoured by vultures and rats
to be seen as a warning to mere mortals
who stumble towards the horizon of hope
dirty and naked, trying to fulfill a dream
while escaping the nightmare of madness
from those whose eyes
have turned a crimson flaming orb


8/8/20
contest Infiction

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