Have to Lose
Power held is sure to slip
if not renewed by consequence
of favors owed to the world
while the Devil takes his spoils.
The field was tilled with hatred's filth
manure of fear’s despair
by spiteful minds now long toiled
to prepare the way for their lord.
From pillared heights in golden chairs
fates are shorn with razor blades
welded by the one percent
cutting flesh from the repressed.
Surety is the greatest wound
inflicted by the ardent fool
bent to press the world to kneel
while angels beg the soul to heal.
With sick ease the knife does it work
faceless meat is the butcher's view
when all is same from that height
querying what do you have to lose?
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160823.