The Mortal Immortals Poem by Alfred Barna

The Mortal Immortals



They wish to create a religion of the mind
Where they see clearly, and you are blind
Meaningless rituals to make you feel appeased
Bend down now slowly; so they can be pleased
Dominion over your thoughts, so you think you have choice
When they are the ones who guide your inner voice
What to wear, where to go
What to reap, what to sow
Yet, their creed is "Do what we will"
And if you rebel, then you they kill
Sacrifice upon their alter of greed and sorrow
Walk away from their misery, and see the morrow
Cathedrals and Churches built upon crypts and old sites
Shall never deliver again their former cosmic rites


In their minds the ten behind the golden gates
Are the ones who should decide all of our fates
They believe a flood of knowledge before, shall come after
Yet it is they, who are the seeds of all disaster
In their mad world, the end justifying the means
Yet trading a bull cow for Jack; for some ancient magic beans
Is just that, a children's story making a giant of a tale
You are just mortal men, and your grand endeavors shall fail
Hoping for their return, as if they shall become all of earths saviors
With their bitter sciences and evil behaviors
The arts you have learned, you have gleaned from the fallen
Their hoard is not yours, and never shall they be your calling
You are like the masses that roam upon the earth
To dust you have come from, and to dust you shall return with mirth

Monday, December 1, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Life
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
We are all on the same level, beware those who put themselves above men, for they are men also; and their delusion, takes them no higher.
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