The Holy Land Poem by Daniel Richards

High above the land tonight, consciousness hangs motionless in stagnant flight,
And deep beneath its learned wings sits the pride of foolish beings, with only the knowledge of disguise and deceits; they brace the ignorance of their kings and follow blindly into the nights of barren waste lands that once held life, and on the kings words the desperately cleave, without the inheritance of self belief.

Not one king or one of the regal prophet men, show the way but yet still walk and talk across the land as if heavenly sent to deliver the words of the divine plan, invoking the words of god from their books with blood on their hands, with every word they speak toxic aromas are hung in the air, thrown forward by the poison tongued doctrinaire. Too question what is said is to question the word of god and punished by death, by the doctrines own word they said!

From morning to night, villages and peasants’ held to the thrones with fright, with an endless flow of doom and dogma they would ware the darkness with an empty smile, whilst the kings lived a lavish life, by bringing forth the words of god from their mouth they control with guile.
Illiterate masses take the words on a page as a cryptic gift of god, for the supposed divine kings, who they feverishly belive the royal forked tongued, speaks truth which rings

But far away across the field’s and sea’s, the holy land is at war, its heart broken and its sprit bleeds, armies marching clashing and killing, the word of god is the strength of all sides, where was the divine kings when this war arrived, residing resting gently in lavish luxury and greed, sending loyal soldiers to war deceived by the high priests, told that god was there protector for the kingdom of god is for the kings the treasure it holds and the power it brings

Encumbered forever by desire and ambition, but the kings remain with a hunger still yet unsatisfied, their thoughts stray and their greed increases without boundary, with the weary soldiers back from war their eyes roll to the horizon, looking beyond the embers of burning lands left behind them, they march their armies towards new lands, with conquest in the air, an arrogance impossible to understand seated in mighty castle as their men die in foreign lands

Unrelenting ambition and greed breed a transition from earthly man too evil tyrant, and with time the end draws near, from several thousand bloodied tears lost loves and young lives bring images in last moments of life, death brings the dawn of a new king and so the roundabout of greed and ambition swings again, with ships and cannons ruling the waves, how many lives will be lost to the labyrinth of coral caves

We pray for brighter lighter days, ones of wonder, peace and praise, but with viral royals breeding, life can never be the way we dream, for it is a future we cannot see, for it encompasses us all as equal and the this unsettles the regal mind, so until the end of time we’ll live our lives unsatisfied in accordance to rules and laws devised cunningly by the royal blood lines, like sleep walking backwards we are pulled from behind by force of summer inner outward tide