An Odyssey Of Decline

The mad merchants of profit, they want more and more,

they drink dry every reservoir.

Their obsession, with wealth and possession,

know no limits; masters of dishonesty and deception.

Their vaults filled to capacity,

acting as kings of old.

worshiping their idols and temples of gold.

Monuments embodying  audacity.

A den of thieves, with aces up their sleeves,

slight of hand, every trick of the trade,

there’s fortunes to be made.

Mass institutions on a global scale, to big to fail,

where everything an everyone are for sale.

Now it’s coming to the breaking point,

no way to bust out of this joint.

Here at crazy central, welcome to the state of mental,

to late to escape the inevitable fate.

The hoards and masses,  carry on unaware of their trespasses.

dealing with the devil,  the time will come to consummate.

Those who once were saintly,  hold to hope faintly,

perchance they maintain a trace,  of innocence and grace.

Pray that they can be spared,  because their vision had been impaired.

They couldn’t avoid the tragedy,  of what would be their destiny.

We’re all complicit, the covenant we made,  was illicit,

Zarathusa spoke,  he related what he’d been told,

the people didn’t heed, they became even more bold.

Their greed became their one consuming,  driving need,

the prophet warned of the woe that would befall,

the calamities that would appall, one and all.

But they laughed and cursed,  unable to quench an unquenchable thirst.

Riches stockpiling,  even higher, they danced around the fire,

burnt offerings, sacrifices thrown on the pyre.

Mesmerized by the glitter, soon all began to wither,

bounty once so plenty,  now only for the few; while the many,

suffered for the deeds that others had done.

All going down,  every one,  every single one.

Seven horsemen came riding,  bearing false messages of good tidings,

the beasts were greeted,  at a banquet table seated.

While they were feasting , wining and dining,  the clock’s chiming,

the countdown to the final hours drawing nigher.

They understood finally,  the recklessness of their consuming desire,

drunk with insanity,  blind to the profanity,

a cloud of gloom,  foretold of the impending doom.

They didn’t realize the bargain they had made,

came with a debt that would have to be paid.

No amount of prayer could save them from their coming terror,

to late to comprehend their error.

Their final folly,  a celebration of their damnation,

some were not bothered by their choice, and rejoiced.

Others wept and cried for salvation,

in a stupor of surrender,  they stumbled.

Around them all that had been,  had collapsed and crumbled,

and the downfall came;

fade to black,  empty frame.

© 2015  Kathleen Stefani and Combing The Catacombs
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express written permission from the site’s author is strictly forbidden.
Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to, Kathleen Stefani and Combing The Catacombs, with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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