Golden leaflets of the past,
echo the obvious gospels.
Excavating the convolutions,
to mine a gold called common sense.
It announces to humans,
'the' humans, their knowing errors.
Unforgiven by the gods of wrath,
who gnaw of their feeding hands.
Sacrificed the hands, the humans, the cripples.
Misread gold to be coal,
kick it with ruckous mocking,
obscene to themselves upon themselves.
When the gods of wrath take their toll,
humans cretinicious visages just oggle. Just oggle at their wrath.
A tear wasted to ...