Making love to my demons
Under the flag of my country
Caught in between the never believer
And a pardon of angels,
Who bargain their souls for my redemption?
Empowered by a nation,
Glorified by heroes departed
My life sanctified by religious compromise
For tonight I fly, under the bombers moon
My plane hidden in the mind of Planet earth
A place where silent screams dwell
And rainbows are sent to die.
My conscience listens to a confess of whispers,
The engines my Priest,
The bomb doors open,
Horsemen of The apocalypse,
Released from their tethers
I am the Arbiter of Death
As in Nature, Chance will decide
The faceless will fall
And god willing I will return home.
In the scheme of things
A Cities worth is one minute, 23 seconds
The camera to record in slow mo for Posterity,
To delight the victorious.
The Impact sweeps away the sweat of past generations
Creates queues of ghosts, waiting,
To lay in row after row, of white marble.
Their silent screams absorbed into Heaven’s Gate,
A cold Hallelujah for God to judge.
Just another day on planet earth
But don’t worry,
Time, like, the brook of sighs, will wash away these sins
But not the seeds,
For we are the gardeners of sin,
Their germination, lovingly corrupted
In our differences, them and us
The Pillars of capitalism our advantage.
The fear of the Devil theirs
Our final epitaph in the circle of life,
We truly are a Blessed race.
© Copyright 2016 steven cooke. All rights reserved.
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