For every muster of time there
Is the rawness of rage beating
On the face of a demon.
Where civilization lost to the
Faces of scorn, the multitude
Of angels are at war with
Demons from depleted rivers
Wrapped around the shackles
Holding man prisoner to his
There is the follicle of peace laying
In the fold, so near; yet, out of
Touch, out of reach, out of sight.
The rings of fire behold every
Fearful child who now stands
At attention in allegiance to a
Monster of things dictating to
Them they must join his army
Or suffer the consequences, and
Face the fetes of the damned.
Demons congregate inside in
Hearts and minds of man,
Swallowing every once of sanity
That burns in the night, due to the
Fever rising in pulsating rhythms
Leaving man to feast his eyes on
The masses imploding unresolved
Truths buried among the dead
Who continue to walk in bondage.
Demons of the night slay all
Innocence engraved in the minds
Of the young, transforming them
Into the embellished of a society
Where drug lords and grave diggers
March into the sea with their own
Solace to hold onto.
Their victims become the blanket
To the earth, resting their bleeding
Desires on a bottle of booze they
Cradle in their arms, given to them
As payment from the demons controlling
Their better judgment.
For how can the masses subside
In shallow graves where disease
Of the heart rises with each fatal
Then stench from their rotting
Souls enlists the help from zombies
Bursting out of their graves
Who walk the earth in search of
Lost children hoping to reach
A climactic rectitude of their song.
For it is the music of the heart
Playing on as they march down
The path of death.
Golden valleys echo their voices
In the wind.
Where grassy areas once chimed
With their graceful stance,
There now rest their burnt out blades
Immerse in the ashes of the flower
Children who used to dance
Through them on their way to
Strawberry fields, letting the music
Of their hearts fill them up with thoughts
Of dandelions, sunshine, and lollipops.
How can this breach of time falter
Into the unknown where man can
No longer recognize himself.
For his face has metamorphosed
Into the horrors he strove to get
For he has now become his father
Where his fold is now the beholder
Of a raging fire consuming the young
With every drop of poison shooting
Up into their veins.
When will the sun return, giving
Them a lifeline to cling to?
Where are the geese keeping
Them in touch with the chains
Maybe they’ve had too much
Reality in the bitterness of cold
Biting down into their flesh.
For the children of scorn drift
From the angels of mercy who
Strove to beat out the demons
Ways in their molted hearts.
Where is the end leading them
Out of their broken homes,
Bringing them across smoky
Mountains, leading them back
Into the sunlight?
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015