“Emperor of the Dawn” — by: Quincy Washington
we begin to believe
we’ve risen above
the bloody birth
of our origin
when in our reflection
we see perverse transcendence
towards entitlement
in which no allegiance
or kinship to the natural way
binds us to our center
when we do not recognize
the fumbling
frightened flesh parade
in which we all lock step
shoulder to shoulder
flailing for our survival
when our insanity of arrogance
so distorts our vision
of our place in time
blind to the sacred ancient truths
removed from bone-broken reality
of human failure and weakness
when facts annoy and fiction comforts
and we begin to eat our own
while fornicating with false gods
of greed, power, and prejudice
on forsaken gilded alters
of perjured cruelty
then the hour of the beast
is certainly at hand
and we are
by deed and apathy
its deserving helpless prey
rob kistner © 2019