Rage

And the red against black is the fulfilment of a contract
Carried on the bony back of the keeper of a stony plaque
Engraved with names of the faceless and the maimed
By our sleeper of the age our creeper of the page
The reaper of our stolen rage in all his foul glory
Puffed up with the fear and dignity stripped
Of all those left in crumbled agony
Decaying in the stinking heat, evaporating meat

The folded satin on your Sunday best
Shimmers like a glaze on this bright and holy day
As you lick the lifeless gaze within this vast and splendid maze
Where loneliness is churning with maggots and worming
And flesh eating beetles suck a furious rot