The brimstone Prophesy

Ring me a bell,

Alarming, heats and sulfur of hell

Alarming from people that fell

Alarming bad storylines for a tell.

Shadows over the sun of a Nation

Raping daughters and killing sons of vision

Moving slowly and faster on same motion

Accelerating top gear on roads of unequal levels

… And tapping breaks for peace that travels.

Are we born to be doom in hardship wells

There goes a Prophet ringing his bell.

On same streets abandoned my gods…

A dying tomorrow, he sings and tell

Not solely of doom but he keeps ringing a bell

For ears to hear and trees to bear fruits

Not fruits of same polymers and isotopes

Nor to bring hope whereas they are but brimstones

Times are harder than a tribal damnation

Beware people of same denomination.

1 Comment

  1. Eugenia says:

    Excellent poetry



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