No ratings.
Cut one head off and two grow back |
Hydra [Pantheon, part I] Beneath the print, there lies a Hydra, coiled, buried 'tween the text; with words that creep inside ya, controlling what comes next A world devoid of demigods, such scales on display; 'midst token steps and heavy nods, unbalanced all the way A writhing mass of figureheads, left proudly on display; brass necks spun, the way they're led, the way such scape goats play Puppets spinning on the wind, strings pulled on an ill breeze; as morals bright, they dim, rescind, corrupted with disease Grown, well fed, and watered down, till guillotines, they fall; a lamb, hung, drawn and quartered, crowned, ... a deeper, darker call Slaughtered for a reason, raised, it's fleece hung out to dry; stripped gold plated seasons, braised, a corpse riddled with flies A beast borne with a purpose, low, its body... it protects; as heads farmed at a surplus, grow, bound, buried in the text with apples sold as cider, sweet, the devil's out, it rides; in fine print, there's a Hydra's beat, in the details... it hides |