Childhood dreams labeled childish,
Masses march relentlessly northward,
Passion bitten by power’s deceit,
Venom festers beneath scaly flesh.
Sand dusts the carcasses of life,
Polishes the shells, reflecting all light,
Grinding along streets slated for gold,
Cobblers cobble no more.
Today’s forgers add no value,
The craft once common now corrupt,
Miller no longer an artisan, it’s time,
Consumption consumes future hopes.
Hats now hung in expandable warehouses,
Satisfaction guaranteed to liquid kings.
Within, Orc eyes scour fields of meek,
The vulnerable servants, mistaken as weak.
Carnage splatters within platinum towers,
Butchers possessed by masked bloodlust,
Venerated masters feast upon their young,
Position sustained by unseasoned meat.
Sooner or later all meet with Peter,
A principle barbarians know well,
Making bundles while the ego shines,
Darkness falls upon the unjustly slain.
The paradox: strength detests wayward suitors,
Celebrants who dance atop dry bones,
Conspirators fall short by walking tall,
Gentle corpses pave their elevation.
Battlegrounds showcase the real victors,
Watch how tickertape flutters down,
Passing icons waving from leather seats,
Decorating warriors facedown in trenches.
Causes Tom Wagner Supports
AMFA Foundation, Affordable Medicines For Africa-South Africa, World Vision