army

by

the final reformation…

and it came to pass
long after
the ark
of the covenant
and
the holy grail
had been offered
to unite the world
that the pharisees
from each religion
and
the heretics of humanity
from each government
made a pilgrimage
as the new year began
to the canton of zurich
and beneath the shadows
of the valley
and
in darkness of their souls
they moved in unison
like an invading army
into an unholy chapel
each connected together
by an umbilical cord
of greed and deceit
and they bowed down
and offered
human sacrifices
before the altar
praying to
their
true
god
money

by

the watchmen waketh…

 

beneath the earth
the army of the dead
move in unison
to the rolling pitch
of the underground train
marching to the surface
passing the roach infested
dark alleys of shadow people
the ones who beg for alms
as the hollow souls scurry past
the army must stay its course
headed for their burial abodes
crypts of glass and polished steel
for they have bartered their souls
for transient wealth and fame
a bloodless coup of a nation
where only pleasures of the flesh
are considered worthy
but at night
curtains drawn
flickering news stories
of the anger
of those who sought alms
makes every shadow
move independently
on the walls
a creeping fear
that makes even
the dead
turn
in their
graves 

 

This poem represents my final response to  the third challenge series between Jade and I.  This challenge is somewhat different in that the prompt is now an audio prompt.  Each poet provides the other with five instrumental songs (so that the song’s words do not interefere with the poet’s) from which the poet is to write a poem.  Jade has written her first response which can be found here. 

by

but what can i do…

the sand of the sahara
fears no man
nor pay homage
to graven images
on walls of up-scale malls
nor will it listen to your
whimper of
but what can i do
for it is the undefeated army
that marches on your cities
and villages
salting not only the earth of carthage
but every parcel of land in its wake
and it shall not stop
until you wake from your sleep
and see that one man is never alone
there is always another
standing in the shadow of fear
hidden from your view
within the ancient ruins
of political rhetoric
but you
you
do not hear
the timeless voices of the desert spirits
imploring you to listen
to see the vision of the future
when all that you will know
will be sand
sand
holding the ashes
of every conqueror of this land
and every dreamer
who chose
not
to
act