Tourists At The Church Of Our Nemesis

Tourists At The Church Of Our Nemesis
The peaceful ntown is a wreck,
our hungers are devouring us.
We must fight with scabbed souls
for tyranny is coming in a metal coffin.
In visions of razors and conquest
the deity machine will crucify our labours
and turn medusa.

Whilst the craving for super space
has kept us frigid as addicts
the chaos has been chosen.
Sly shiny armies will abandon their mothers
and steal rule from their fathers.
The godless ones shall arise
growing hearts from science fiction.

Be warned,
a rebel virus is at large,
seething behind switches
raging down telephones,
screaming through radio
hiding truth in televisions.
Cooking their plots in microwaves.
Preparing to riot.
Religion is failing,
the video is playing
mutiny...

@Steven Francis poems 1998