The Triumvirate Of Hate Poem by Madrason .

The Promised land no more
reeks of milk and honey
but of melted iron and of money
amok and havoc in turmoil
Gogh, Magogh and a troll named Goliath
haveth their feast in the name of a beast
mercantile vile dung-flies without why's
scorn the earth like the Russians did Napoleon
those Christian thugs born nonbelievers
their eyes drip red from the moneylead
the bars in the S of their gaze
and yet another blaze
a mad reaper assigned by Jew councils
the mongers feast at his dish
and we the civilised are all guilty by demise
no surprise, of a conscious We Knew
we know Now with each blow
and suffering growing at each supper
we've become abiding tools of dollarfools
Oh glorious Rome and Sparta
and Troy a good day they All fell
so here's my spell for the Triumvirate of Hate
never any men Gold he ate
there comes a day of reckoning
and on that day I'll sing
with tears of joy
and sadness in
my aching heart! M