A Prophets End To Invasion
A Prophets End to Invasion
They were besotted
And long they stood with their clans men
their adamant frenzy breaking the strain in their eyes
gawping at the infamous injustice done
the dangling figure hung
with loop and gaudy blood
limp in their half seeing light
The uniformed aliens taking a stroll
the curfew bell rang sharp
almost brutal
down the abandoned alleyways of the one time
cornucopia
a dirge is sung
bemoaning their dear sweet concubine
oh where oh where was Columbine
In the hanging square this cringe of faces
milled and cried
show us something
give us cabaret
show us eternity
give to us this monstrosity
Voices in tune with their monotonous isolation
beseeching the crystallized prophets
as they rolled in tanks and armoury
waving the flag of their bedlam
the aliens returning once again
to another hero hung
from the bow of a slender tree
malice aforethought grown to onslaught
on the figure head
choked on his fine cup of blood
A crown of Apes and thorns
Labeled him the shyster
the pseudo man
crying
“don’t touch the sycophant it is taboo
don’t taunt the warrior
the lecher may come for you
don’t dare to look upon him
the dead face of our renaissance”
So the masquerade was done
the Christ is hung
the fable has gone
they are lost in their cybernetic burlesque of confusion
once the satyr made his revelation
but not one of them dared to look upon
the face
of their dead rebellion
Copyright © Colin Mitchell Williams | Year Posted 2008
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