Progress

Tragic are the boys left to rot on pillars over the Golden City
Made to dance upon crimson coals in the waning light
Memorized hyms of doubt and supplication eternal
Under watch of broken collared priests of unbelieving Gods
Giggles from girls tripping on pockmarked streets
Eager to retain their tiaras of melted baby bottles
Holding up skirts of dollars and oppression above brackish rain
Pushed on by sunken eyed ghosts waiting for redemption
No longer having to worry about the laws of this universe
Sun nor sky nor snow nor sleeping giant of moral virtue
Can wrest the void cold shine of the City of All-Good
Monuments dedicated to nuanced martyrs plated in ivory
Heroes humbly retracing their steps to overcoming heaven
Dodging sharpened tongues and common knowledge
Scaling the walls of traditional forethought
To conquer deep into the psyche of the lizard brain
And liberate it from the shackles of yesterday's millenniums
Weeping and gnashing at the sight of Greek masters
Page after page brought to the kiln for transfiguration
Made new with gel ink of smoking transports
In gibberish words venerated and entombed in glass
Frail arms dangle over alleyways grasping at flies
Grip lost on slippery wings too strong to crush
Sighs of exhaustion blow winds of decay upon fathers
Putting on armour to face the wrath of two way streets
Sinister atoms baked by mothy cooks crave expansion
Bodies caked in passive resistance sway to the beat of graves
In the prestigious grasslands the City of Peace and Justice provides
The little boy puppets decend with smiles and blackfoot
New soldiers on the attack towards harmonious ingestion
Marching and singing the good news thought up this morning
And forgotten by late afternoon
Severed souls and robotic doves invade Paradise
Demanding the homogeny of free thought
Lead by the dancing sons thrashed by their crying mothers
So happy in the ever thankful misery of semi-empty beds