The Glory

Behold the glory that was Rome
Possessed effigies embalmed with wealth and power pose
Choking millions in golden robes, crumbling hopes to ruin
Broken all the old roads, weathered fast and overgrown
Winter coliseums play to empty mobs in cold wind against gray skies
Behold the glory all consuming, the keys that lock all roads and doors
Decapitated behind digital barricades, absorbed by mockery of an eternal truth
Question asleep in arboreal winter,
How bad is good, how good is evil ?
No more belief in History
No more faith, only imagery to worship
Shell and self assumption consume like rampant flames the world is and
Changes frame, burns in purple pages, rage and policy
Unseen hands stitch together cloths of reality from stolen thoughts and dreams
Are thrown wholesale into a massive ditch of commonwealth with no returns
Behold the New Day, the New World and Powerful avatars of Everything and Nothingness
Behold the glory that was Rome.



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 210 times
Written on 2020-12-17 at 13:36

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