The Riders Rage
Darkside Of Aquarius Poetry Contest Entry
The Riders Rage
The first rode in atop towers of gold,
His simpering grin showed a heart stone cold.
He chanted slogans, sharp and loud,
Dark shadows gathered in the crowd.
His steed was steel, his lips spat flame—
He buried truth and sold his name.
The second rose from Africa’s heat,
With circuits and chips working so neat.
Promising stars, worlds in the skies,
But he left the earth to strangle on lies.
Eyes of glass and heart of code,
He paved the way, then off he strode.
The third wore medals, and sinful pride,
He preached of honor, sermons that lied.
He forced the young to fight and bleed,
Then fed on their rage to slake his need.
His voice was velvet, whiskey soaked,
Of secret missions he texted and joked.
The fourth was hoarse, and whisper thin,
False prophet lost in toxic spin.
He spoke of cures, of sacred blood,
Watched reason drown beneath the flood.
His gospel twisted, soft and slow—
A worm that danced where truth won’t go.
And still the wheel refused to turn,
Intention wrong as the heavens burned.
Silver Spirit, alone, betrayed,
Could only watch as the world decayed
Aquarius gone dark and dead.
A future scored with pain and dread,
As each rider raped this land
And left behind his evil brand.
Gotta burn the wheel of Dharma down
Burn the wheel of Dharma down
Burn the wheel of Dharma down
Burn the wheel right down, right now yeah
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