Lines Poem by Leon Moon

And ripe ears are raped with the genetics of conventions,
Sequenced pupils with thick iris liquid glow upon steeples
And beam with the inevitability of the loathing of the sanctimonious
For their skin shall be melted and fed to starving children
And wasted to the masses in distillation.
There is no irony, only in words
And the deity of morality shall be mocked by evolution,
Life's spark is frivolous with expansion (to the grand fire)
And who shall weep when the space of oxygen has seized, and we're in darkness- our
Home…where we shall live again.