Wasps nest in the sacred yurt;
Buzzing reminder that spirituality hurts.
Superimposed on a mistreated land,
Colonies uproot by the Witch King’s hand,
Smooth and calloused to choke out the thistle
Who dried the riverbed to wet his whistle.
I'm sick from moving and tired of grooving,
Two sides of the same coin, but neither behooves me
So cast our minted fate into a wishing well
Angling for heaven by descending towards hell.
I may be a public genius but a private idiot,
Overseeing the journey but not babysitting it
The trek through the slavemasters’ institutionalized purgatory
Plays out in countless generation’s sensationalized story.
A battle for escape from the warlorn glory
Incurring debts to a system whose chief command’s, “ignore me.”
Bargaining for our meek little home
In this bleakly vast unknown.
I may play by the rules,
But only to use them as tools
For my satire to set this system afire
Rubbing sticks together from rivers that divide two of a feather
As the Earthly choirs inquire what stones we've acquired
When the real supports derive from flesh we have sired,
Beaming pillars who won't be demeaned to man killers
When the foundations of our nation crack into the mire
Sinking with the skeletons drunk in our wine cellars.
I don't want to talk about it anymore,
Because no finer points will even this score.
You chose the haunting of these residuals
To avoid the taunting of other individuals.
This relationship has already sailed
Since our landlocked treaties all failed.
Pollen rises as I rough through the duff
Through swollen eyelids perceive I've dreamed enough.
This empty vessel seeks a sleepy port to nestle
For respite from the thrashing seas I've wrestled.
I lied in my bed, now comes time to make it.
That's the last straw I let slip through my fingers
Though my doubt of nature's laws still lingers
With the weight of a wait to break the camel's back
Now me and my pack animals all fade to black.
Our expedition’s financiers lick fingers to count their stack
The blood of Christ fixed a tasty midnight snack.
Let me go when my useful fountain’s full
Then in old age, I'll hold you accountable.
I didn't know what this would become when we started
So the wonder of who set us adrift always smarted
Obscuring blue skies above the Red Seas we've parted,
Like dry runs within the drawers I sharted.