Prey

There’s gold in them their teeth glowing from beneath the mouths of those who have traded their souls and paid off their moles for all their secrets told. The shine from their smiles can be seen for miles across the desert sands and the servants who didn’t bow have forsaken the vow that masters must rule the lands are hanging from olive branches. There are grapes to be fed to beasts in their beds whilst baths filled with milk and clothes made of silk are prepared by the slaves who pray for sleep and nothing to keep them awake.

Disease will not please those who should never be touched one must call a halt to those clearly at fault the infected must be abandoned to fortune which is the cruellest joke that watches small lives go up in smoke. Am I discussing biblical times where creatures climbed mountains and drank blood from the fountains as they crushed peasants under their feet? Do I speak of legends and creations who fight accusations that fiction is the father of them all? The mythical magic would not be so tragic if death wasn’t its greatest boast history has a way of being told what to say by those who could read and write. The minds of the many never spoke for the few the great men of history we’re told are always right yet their story is one of glory and how many were killed in the fight to keep mankind alive when it’s always been dying on its feet. From the ape to the cave the cowards and the brave there has always been a need for people to be saved yet many have been thrown to the wolves without ever being free and for what? For daring to disagree or asking why the rich need to stay rich therefore the poor have to die what kind of beauty in the eye wants to witness such shedding of blood?

From the bible to the tribal from the cage to the stage we allow the perpetrators of rage to have more than one finest hour courtesy of their addiction to power leaving nothing to flower all the way back to its roots it matters not what started this rot or whether they wore robes or suits or whether bows or guns that shoots someone will be at the end of the bullet or the arrow triggered by minds of the narrow. Maybe it was Adam maybe it was Eve it depends on what you believe nostalgia of war is there to retrieve somebody somewhere started the fight somebody somewhere didn’t get it right and its been thousands of years between the dark and the light yet here we are under the same stars with fires of hell come up from the well of hatred that resides in those whose lives have long since succumbed to decay. This world is absurd and maybe our leaders misheard when the god of their choosing said don’t forget to prey.

©JMcN2014