Roads of pain run sure and true
throughout every nation
built to last by vile fools
whipping death’s ire elation
routes designed to cause chaos
linked to profit’s notion
greed is not a gross burden
just life’s miracle potion.
 
Along each road souls are held
by livid beasts of prey
so many to fete the few
crass gluttony greed so displays
entombed is one’s life
profit’s swill is smile portrayed
seven generations slaved
greed’s debt, life’s disarray.
 
The old and young serve here
shackled beasts of burden
not knowing why or how
lives ruled by vile snide warden
bony hands, splayed back, eyes void
a smile just a token
minds endure, but deathly still
remember a dream broken.
 
Head of road is a trough
built in guile, debt, and perversion
run, by beings versed in pain
adept in life’s subversion
dark ones plying wickedness
good is target of aspersion
thirsts quenched by flesh
pain their joys acurmination.
 
This road is growing in our lands
living flesh it burns
still unseen in mind of man
life to death it soon turns
suffer each who yearns to ride
for it does not adjourn
riding profit’s swilling lane
is death so justly earned.
 
Michael Darrell Walker

(2010)

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