Wicked
Remote from the equator, remote from all light
Lie victims in the hands of an angry man
Who sees law as wet clay, who sees the will of the people not at all
And the spring rainshower of life’s bounties as crowbars
The glory of one man erected like a pyramid upon bullet-riddled bodies and graves
An infidel, casting a midnight fog over the landscape
A black-magic sorcerer, spouting ancient wickedness and spells of confusion
Commanding an army patriotically blinded to all but the dark light
Immolating their countrymen for a moment of warmth
Raping their wives for a moment of pleasure
Sacrificing their country so he might be their king in the moment before its fall
History will set them on Libra’s ethereal scale next to devils and hobgoblins
And other fantastical beings of evil
They will be cursed in the name of a holier authority
Mountaintall bears will rend every ligament of their being
To the smallest indivisible jots
In this life or another
Copyright © Michael Lerman | Year Posted 2008
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