It shifts from bad to worse
Expectedly, it does
Suppose it looks quite obvious
For many, counting those
Who claim the empire is to end
Split in a thousand pieces
That’s what the masterminds intend
To do – I don’t believe this
I think what we are witnessing
Is their Golden Age
And this is just beginning
The Chapter Two, first page
We’re in the new edition
That meets time challenges
We’re actors of non-fiction
A dystopian excess
We’re stigmatized forever
But we get used to this
Just never you say never
And never comes a bliss.
Have you ever sat or thought upon
that furniture called the ottoman;
or do I wonder all alone
why they had an empire of their own?
WAS VANDALS FOR SURE
I DO NOT LIE I AM PURE
TRUMP SOUNDS SO COCKSURE
To Dust
Upon the plains of Babylon he raised
A mountain wrought of gardens for his queen,
Where dolphins swam in frescoed halls, and spring
Did wear a diadem of endless green.
Thus love became an architect of stone,
And pledged to conquer time with patient hands.
Yet desert drank the brick, and ages passed.
The earthquake spoke. The fire from heaven breathed.
Soft-footed time came forth and made his claim,
Till marble learned the humility of sand.
The Black Taj fell before its arches rose.
Knossos beheld her painted lovers fade.
And ink, once sovereign on the crumbling wall,
Now spells no word but what the wind recalls.
What then remains? The column and the name,
Both borrowed by the air and given back in dust.
Empires are footprints which the tempest erases,
And mortal crowns return unto the earth.
But love, enduring, doth refuse decay.
Though siege may burn and river may devour,
Though centuries may grind and tombs conceal,
That which was built of heart shall not be lost.
I gather, therefore, this pale dust as writ,
And read therein the proof that love outlasts its house.
A constant urge
Gnawing, relentless, overwhelming
It preys on my mind
Refusing to let its guard down
But I keep my defences strong
My soldiers fight to their last breath
Every battle a defiance
A rejection of your concrete ways
Try as I might
My castle will never be satisfactory
My cavalry, my strength, my empire
Will never match your desires
But my longings
My desires
Live on
And I refuse to live this way
To tiptoe, to whisper
To silence my voice at the mercy of your thunderous demands
To obey you at the expense of myself
Roomed spaces turned upside down
Not for their toppled columns
Of it, mark what's erased.
By the once husband and wife
Ruled over as co-regents
Love's empire. They debased.
Explosions tear the midnight sky apart,
Mothers clutch their children , terror in their heart.
Washington thunders, "We own the dark!"
Tehran vows vengeance with a funeral spark.
Blood rains on ancient streets of stone,
Fathers vanish, leaving empty thrones.
Eagles scream while black flags are flown,
Yet both titans tremble when the reaper's blade is shown.
Ceasefire! they bellow through smoke and flame,
Victors' lies mask the widows' endless pain .
"Glory eternal!" both leaders claim.
While orphans whisper broken prayers in vain.
Oil burns black like souls turned to ash,
Markets laugh as the funeral pyres flash.
" Peace in our time!" they trumpet with a flash-
Then sharpen blades for the next blood-soaked clash.
Two empires dance on a graveyard and grand,
Clenched fists raised over a dying land.
They sign the truce with trembling guilty hands,
And tomorrow..... the screams begin again.
IRAN WILL DO THIS
TRUMP THE WAY HE SEES IT IS
THE LIES ARE ALL HIS
I made the World
I made the Earth
I made the Animals
I made the People
I made the Word
It belongs to me
GOD
Calm is strength.
Silence says everything.
Bend, don’t break.
Healed, not hiding.
They didn’t see me coming—
because I never
needed to announce
myself.
Softened, not shrank.
My silence
wasn’t surrender—
it was strategy.
I became too whole
to fit inside
their opinions.
My strength
is a river—
steady, shaping stone.
Not loud,
just unshakable.
I wear peace
like armor.
My crown
is quiet,
but it shines.
I held my fire—
and lit the way.
They built walls;
I planted roots.
They looked down.
I looked within.
I never needed noise
to matter.
I did
what I wanted.
Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's-
but Caesar has stolen everything:
the land,the tongue,the airwaves,
even the prayers we whispered under stars.
Render unto God what is God's -
but God is tired of excuses,
God wants justice,not jingles.
God wants bread for the barefoot.
God wants truth that does't trend.
So tell Caesar:
We are the new prophets bro,
we carry Scripture in spray cans,
we baptize pavements with protest songs,
and our psalms wear hoodies and sneakers.
Tell him the meek are armed
with metaphors and memories,
Tell him our tithes is uprising,
our sermon is survival
our altar is the street.
Render unto Caesar his coins -
we're doing trading our souls.
For the kingdom of the poor is rising,
And the drum is the only law we obey now
They came saw and conquered
and plundered other nations heritage as trophies
voices of dissent drowned.
The elite saw themselves as the educated elite
wrote learned books about statues they had purloined
also told of what significance it had.
For the people robbed of their symbols.
The pilferers became ennobled.
Sometimes theft pays.
Most of the stolen culture ended up
in a museum, so the people could wonder
and be proud, although some had an afterthought.
Now that we live an enlightened time
the British Museum is no longer proud of their
possessions keep sending some cultural icons back
to the countries, they were taken from.
How many times has the Empire State Building been struck by lightning?
I was guessing three or four then I remembered how old she is.
So, I guessed twenty times.
If I took that times five, I would be a lot closer to an accurate guess.
Mercy is granted because GOD the FATHER is LOVE
He cares, and HE is LONG-SUFFERING
However, you must know
When it is time for our LORD to act
We know that HE will—that is a fact
The Empire Strikes Back
The magnitude of the Lord’s fire should never be forgotten
God gave His only begotten Son, Jesus, the Holy One
The fall of man could not stop the Lord's purpose
The call for justice brought the Glory of the Kingdom
The story of salvation declares the Power of the Blood of Jesus
Man can now be forgiven if he accepts the plan of salvation and
He can once again receive the Holy Spirit
An oxymoron declares the Glory of the Lord
Our enemy thought that he would win on that day
But the book of Genesis declared that our enemy would lose
Jesus died on the Cross; Jesus won on the Cross
He rose from the dead; Jesus lives forevermore
The empire strikes back, and now man is on track
He can fulfil the Lord's purpose and glorify God on earth
Jesus died on the Cross; Jesus won on the Cross
The Cross is victorious; This is glorious
The empire strikes back!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2025
Empire of Illusions
Once, I had an empire,
but I was forced to set it on fire.
One day, I realized it was all a hoax,
crafted by fake crooks and plastic looks.
Something in the static
masked the dead and sick,
until a revelation
pushed me towards lamentation.
The clothes I put on are woven with threads of cries and yearn,
each thread has a story to be told,
hidden in layers of irony and manifold.
I had a dream where I could scream
with authority, under no hidden scheme,
where I'd be the one, my kingdom would come,
tossing coins to decide the lessons to learn.....
-Harsh Bernard Shaw
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