Altar Reality Poem by Alfred Barna

The terrible temple of wealth
Creating an alter reality of tenable fiction
Spells of cunning and slow stealth
The ultimate opiate of insured addiction
Jailing the righteous for they cannot pay the fines
Only the poor and humble know of the affliction
Of those who hold the reins of whip upon their spines
And offer lotteries and offer scant benediction
Coveting this leads to murder, to scheme and plan
Often to the detriment of his fellow man

Imagine the entire world sold for ink and paper
While things of value were taken into their vaults
In all of human history, can you imagine such a caper?
For the ultimate magic trick is of all our faults
Just like Jack, who sold his cow for magic beans, we are blind
The lie and swindle was greater than the fairy tale
For a gigantic hoax we perpetrated upon all mankind
For we allowed our very futures to be set up for sale
Our very governments were controlled by their puppet strings
For the very tune they called, and we hear the siren sings

We laughed of playwrights of a kingdom for but a horse
While we worked and slaved for dollars, whose very worth they stole
Our educators sold out to, just as a matter of course
Now even our very minds and children are under their control
The religious sold out for their two pence and a golden crown
Now we pray to a god of golden calves and horns evil and disked
And we wonder why deep inside we feel the millstone taking us down
Even the media is owned by corporate arms and truth is now frisked
The virtual reality is now real, and what was real is but a dream
When will we awaken to shattered fits and one great scream