They Did Not Repent Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

The hilt of the sword is still warm
Leather gird and wild honey
Ambition with its scorpions
Mercenary moon sold for gold
Ghost nations choose sides
Do you see through eyes of Sisyphus

Pantomime like Fellini basking in void
Voices scorched with their gossip
Brine of jealous red and orange art
They sink in courts of self indulgence
Crushed by the weight of pride
Vanity, the face of humility without love

Consumption of classic literature
Interlude into blue crystal harks
The dead are his wise caravan
Land of Nod with streets of scientists
The city of monks with ancient Aristotle
Now the world is filled with Nephilim

A days work for a measure of wheat
Horses ride for the far North
We must answer the knocks at the door
What did Nietzsche see in his mad dreams
Who should we look to now?
The coming man - he is born

No! it is not Stalin...much worse
The hour comes when no man can work
Redeem the time
Moors of England chanting
Crimea hears the scowling empire
Raging waves and signs in the heavens

They did not repent of their fornications and sorcery