We trudge barn-bound,
To find appalling sites
Of vagrant shrouds.
Soon though we stumble,
Among vain citadels
of stubborn intent;
Self-confined to Hells
Of preservative pride
And tribal tutelage.
All wishing to hide
In plain sight from those
Who threaten impingement
On such hallowed ground.
Suspicion grows.
Just right of us, we are unable
To unsee the scene which unfolds
As monster unveilled,
Appearing no more or less
Unfeeling or inhumane
As you or I, turns and
Refuses to entertain
Even such a concept as to
Engage and conform.
We though know our duty through.
Years of prodded incentives
And dictated routine. Captive
We stand and welcome the bolt,
Simply hoping its passage is clean.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
We trudge barn-bound,
To find appalling sites
Of vagrant shrouds.
Soon though we stumble,
Among vain citadels
of stubborn intent;
Self-confined to Hells
Of preservative pride
And tribal tutelage.
All wishing to hide
In plain sight from those
Who threaten impingement
On such hallowed ground.
Suspicion grows.
Just right of us, we are unable
To unsee the scene which unfolds
As monster unveilled,
Appearing no more or less
Unfeeling or inhumane
As you or I, turns and
Refuses to entertain
Even such a concept as to
Engage and conform.
We though know our duty through.
Years of prodded incentives
And dictated routine. Captive
We stand and welcome the bolt,
Simply hoping its passage is clean.
A poem inspired by a chaos