Jul 2015
In the crowd of trader's, amongst the land of Jordan
The glamorous and the exotic gamble betwixt the dust.
This is called the rose city, from the rock tis cut from
It lies on the ***** of Jebel al-Madhbah, or mount-Hor for some.
The deaf and the lame here art shunned, from Rich bafoon's,
The Masses loveth wickedness, of coin's made from golden tomb's
As in their new's, there art no camera's, just idol's and false mantra's, and as they chant in Arabic and Greek, their eye's shut.
In the crypt of the desert's crevice, lies Aaron, the brother of Moses, as all folk's gather as flocking hen's, the prophet's speak of a coming end, yet the trader's careth of no fire, they careth of their camel's and attire, and whilst the tradeth they mock as well.
They mocketh the creator, from whence they hath cometh, like mammal brutes, they seeketh and wanteth, and women here dress in elaborate color, mother's here trade off daughter's, for a Kings treasure, greedy they've become, material's of another.
Their treasure's art their way's of living, not needing their God, their playing with Satan, a liar, one whom ****'s, as whilst they casted lot's, for an Arabic girl in the streets, the mountain's shook, with trembling heat, the Firestone's cameth down, cutting feet.
They wailed to their statues, saying please SAVETH us, they let go of their girl, they tried to trade as a slave and ****** must, the girl ran away, as the seraphim saved her life, the idol's cameth down, the trader's bodies hit the ground, their soul's leaving sight
The adolescent woman, was looking down from up above, her God told her they were greed seeker's, and needed a shrug, the girl couldn't think; she just smiled at her God, God said: thou shalt not be hurt none more, as in flames Petra hath gone up.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
The glamorous and the exotic gamble betwixt the dust.
This is called the rose city, from the rock tis cut from
It lies on the ***** of Jebel al-Madhbah, or mount-Hor for some.
The deaf and the lame here art shunned, from Rich bafoon's,
The Masses loveth wickedness, of coin's made from golden tomb's
As in their new's, there art no camera's, just idol's and false mantra's, and as they chant in Arabic and Greek, their eye's shut.
In the crypt of the desert's crevice, lies Aaron, the brother of Moses, as all folk's gather as flocking hen's, the prophet's speak of a coming end, yet the trader's careth of no fire, they careth of their camel's and attire, and whilst the tradeth they mock as well.
They mocketh the creator, from whence they hath cometh, like mammal brutes, they seeketh and wanteth, and women here dress in elaborate color, mother's here trade off daughter's, for a Kings treasure, greedy they've become, material's of another.
Their treasure's art their way's of living, not needing their God, their playing with Satan, a liar, one whom ****'s, as whilst they casted lot's, for an Arabic girl in the streets, the mountain's shook, with trembling heat, the Firestone's cameth down, cutting feet.
They wailed to their statues, saying please SAVETH us, they let go of their girl, they tried to trade as a slave and ****** must, the girl ran away, as the seraphim saved her life, the idol's cameth down, the trader's bodies hit the ground, their soul's leaving sight
The adolescent woman, was looking down from up above, her God told her they were greed seeker's, and needed a shrug, the girl couldn't think; she just smiled at her God, God said: thou shalt not be hurt none more, as in flames Petra hath gone up.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
