Locusts [Pantheon, prologue]

Locusts [Pantheon, prologue]

The locusts have been feeding,
for too long now it seems;
with apathy long breeding,
seeding sordid, shady schemes

Clouds of insects massing,
where such crops run vibrant, green;
in broad daylight they're gassing,
... barren fields, where they've been

Harvests raped... reaped, ripped and raw,
abandoned fields, brown;
farmers numb, dumb, deaf and sore,
left blind with stripped, spent ground

Maybe it's the only way,
a cycle that must run;
the way such gears turn and play,
as locusts' lying wing beats drum

Thrum their way through pastures light,
the slatting of dark wings;
membraned thoughts, what's wong? what's right?
confused with paltry, pointless things

Distractions set, sharp shiny scraps,
for black birds, to intrigue;
craven hearts, as ravens flap,
a never ending segue

through scarecrows set in fields, sly,
distracting from the swarm;
they point to scapegoats nearby,
dividing up the pliant pawns

Set in motion, piece by piece,
they fight as they are told;
instead of ripping of the fleece,
to see the wolves it truly holds

Hiding in familliar garb,
such shepherds preen and preach;
riding, planting poison barbs,
with wealth stored out of reach

Harvests earnt through unchecked greed,
excesses by the score;
harvests reaped from others' seeds,
unbound from rules of law

Free to those, to whom they're tied,
whomever shares their stock;
in frozen larders, liars hide,
in winters grasp we're locked

Locked in a reality,
where actions are ignored;
with no accountability,
no need to be explored

'midst blames and claims remitted, lost,
dirths, buried in a ditch;
such crimes, they are permitted, glossed,
... lest they happen to the rich

Stood atop their turrets, high,
in castles out of farmers' reach;
hiding sins in currents, lies,
affairs transparent... every breach

Fashion shows, to rich to see,
for mortal eyes, and moral codes;
dictators wear democracy,
an emporor's loose threads... new clothes

Designed with skill and weaved of fog,
for peons blind, to find, pursue;
to fumble round such grim dank smog,
smoke and mirrors, plain in view

Dividing up the angry throng,
with pitchforks set 'gainst torch's flame;
lit with ire, sharp in prong,
an army split... a work force tamed

as termites gorge through cabinets,
shuffling through stolen goods;
hiding 'neath the laminate,
infesting deeper, darker woods

With silos ransacked, looted, robbed,
a moral compass spinning, light;
rendered dull and muted, fobbed,
the farmhands slave away tonight

Amidst the wasps and bee stings, spread,
our hives shift with a burdened strain;
when the locusts finish feasting, fed,
should we grow the crops again?

... maybe halt the farm for now?
deprive the insects off their source;
strike where it harmed through the drought,
damaging their stocks, their cause

but apathy's long breeding now,
for far too long, it truly seems;
forever feeding swine and sow,
seeding.... further... darker dreams