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What unholy curse
Could’ve tainted this universe?

I see murderers roaming the street,
Dirty peasants tending the wheat,
And conniving capitalists cheat.

The pregnant woman begs,
Thrashing in life’s dregs.

The homeless revel in their gin,
Basking in the bar’s garish din;
Willing servants to the desire of their skin.

The prostitutes sing their song:
“To me you now belong.”

Bloodthirsty warriors gloat
As the meek claw at their trash-choked throats;
Lies were all the slanderous author wrote.

Catatonic zealots without the spark of life
Bring praise and glory to the new god, clad in strife.

Trudging listlessly in rag and chain,
Their free will, replaced with pain:
The wretched result of god’s restrictive reins.

In a land full of demons and fiends,
Upon whom may we lean?

There is no God to pray;
No one to keep the fears at bay;
No one else to blame when we become the prey.

Burning crosses
Herald losses,

As the government stands idly by,
Reaping the profit vital in their eyes;
They mock the victim’s earnest cry.

Skyscrapers line like tombstones,
Built upon the righteous one’s bones.

Imposing cathedrals block the sun’s affection,
Filled to the brim with radicals deserving of God’s rejection;
They, too, fell victim to his irresistible injection.

Day by day, Lucifer amasses his wealth
Gleaning from the lowly masses with cunning stealth.

Behind the wall of sleep,
Deep shadows creep,
And the virgin yet weeps.

Even sleep holds no peace
For those seeking release.
Part 3 of my System at a Fault series. If you just got here, please consider going back to the starting poem.
Along with Paradise, this is the other poem that can function as a standalone story.

Here, you see the possible product of allowing tyrannical power to reign free. Though seeking aid from another source seems the best, the results are often no better, if not worse, than what you had before.
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Submitted on
August 7, 2014