Freedom From The Gods Poem by Philip Emmanuel Penaflor

I passed by the road sprinkled with wine from Olympus
where the gods feast on the misery of lesser mortals
who storm the heavens with their litany of woes as they
battle for whatever dignity is left their worth against
capricious gluttons who live by blackmail and robbery;
Alas, the war is waged among the honorable principalities,
and in the end the higher mortals are favored more as
they strategized to captivate the gods with artful flattery.

The rain on the midday heat of the sun soaks the dust
and turns red the carpet where the iron horses march
to steal the dreams of innocent young brides who are
widowed before they come to know the joy of childbirth;
The children who survive will soon be offered to the
altar of vengeance which detests the wisdom of compassion.
Victory it seems seeks those who have the will to triumph,
but the merciful are left to mourn with the hapless orphans.

Why do you exhort the faithful to worship but yourselves
never cared to listen to the cries of the outcasts and violated?
Since when did the heavens exalt a self-centered piety?
I curse you O gods because you fatten your bellies by the
sweat of the earth's wretched as you gladly watch the
vultures greedily claim the spoils of oppression and injustice;
When will your insatiable desire to be hallowed be satisfied
by the supplications of the weak who groans for freedom?