The Invisible Yoke
Our underground deepensas they dig their own graves
with mean ends leaching our walls
until our cities become ghosts
A study of our maps
they creep under
burrowing and uprooting
until all our landmarks fall
fattened and fertilized
by the gore of babes
they eat our young
then hand us the napkin
a vexing of our souls
as they dance the gloat
wisdom juxtaposed in a lie
we become the goat
we sing praises
while dwelling in caves
they're out in the open
parading their perversion
the worm turns
in their dunghill pavement
with our last laugh
revealed in blood-soaked arraignment
November 9, 2012
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.