Orange lights split the sky
Tearing garish holes
In the velvet blanket,
Calling the faithful to worship:
Metal monsters, of varied hues
Belch noxious breath,
Fighting with each other
For a space to rest
While waiting for their supplicants
To pay homage.
The faithful collect
Square wheeled icons
Before joining
The congregation.
The cathedral is lit
With a thousand candles,
Disembodied voices
Softly croon
Messages of hope
And salvation.
The worshippers
Fill their cups to overflowing
With precious gifts
From across the world,
Forged from the death
Of children.
The faithful hand clerics
Cards of plastic
In gratitude
For their bounty,
Their souls
As surety.
I say this
To the money lenders,
To the conglomerates,
To the profit makers,
Hark!
For I shall await you
At the deepest of Dante's levels
Where I shall feast
Upon your souls!!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
