You let this happen

The namesakes’ flesh to be ripped by hidden claw,
Revealed at the behest of the man on the platform.
Impersonal business, devoid. Edicts not to be compromised.
Who could stay a killer’s hand?
It was not the lion that roamed the land.

Babylon. Salvation. Now an eye is on the eastern shore.
Part of a scheme for the human platform.
Personal business, retribution, every woman and child alive.
He sends intelligence back to the base,
Automate the planned disgrace.

Dreaming. The seeded clouds of the starry north,
Shall host the watcher who captures all.
Good for business, control. The border opens for more.
The pit fills quick with data points,
That scathing judge has all it wants.

Pleading. I’ve asked local gods to intervene,
Like prudent kings they choose to wait and see.
They’re also surrounded by strange enemies.
I can find myself in the muddy hole,
Exist in dirt beyond control.

Awake. I strike the lines and hope for more.
They’re still your charms, if rites outlawed,
The jealousy of flesh contorts.
Who’ll tear the tendons clamping down?
Not the Raven who roams this land.