Cacophonous in the fighting of souls.
Throned by acts of self-servitude;
With the hatred, the deposition of all obstacles.
Ravaging, sly swaying of ways,
Distributed amongst the populus.
Acclimated to the ritual destruction of all.
Like storms that rage on Venus.
Pounding, grinding, beating,
The most moralistic of features.
Turing stones to sand,
And riling at the highest of altitudes.
Bearing down like heavy soles on helpless ants.
Ruined, torn, beguiled – opinion eradicated.
Talking of savagery,
Talking of pain,
Talking of fairness,
Talking of nationalism…
Doing in self-righteousness;
Interest inherently in the progression of oneself.
So, take me down to the water’s edge,
Towards where the land meets the sea.
And on through the waves, and
Into the depths of the zeitgeist ocean,
Where the anglers lurk, and where there is little light.
Until finally, one is relieved of hope;