They Carried Their Weighted Grudge
by Christopher J McGoff
Saturday, August 11, 2007
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They carried their weighted grudge,
Against those who’d defend,
Glory for the whore – for she hath sanctioned our land.
I feel the need to redeem my right foot,
to fight war against war; burned by both ends, to endeavor creating a path, hands for the feeding,
I extend – my end,
appendages for a chameleon,
to eat my graphic headache.
Our faith’s inexpensive cost; bought with a loaf of bread,
then piece by piece they’ll subjugate this loaf, to bring themselves to sleep.
From this land I can smell burning flesh.
The decay of ancient customs,
practiced by a culture of centuries.
All this for nothing, but a piece of contemporary gold.
Capture a photograph of this:
And all that I have seen; oil to wrong,
gold to fraud; all hath shaken our internal structure of faith.
Whether a promise of duty
brings forth this momentary persecution,
Or unsuspecting soldiers are used as pawns by deep pockets,
I have been within, to a land stretched out – vast expanses of light shine,
reflected entities grasping for pure hands,
To be lead down this path,
unafraid of what is to come.
For I have been here before,
and I have been within.