Intercourse of men,
A city of some charm,
I love the spectacle,
Their tale I will tell.
An evil mist is spread abroad,
By the wings of the wind,
Their vision full of ghost,
Cheeks wet with blood.
ill clad, ill lad, ill fate,
Exonerating the dead to kill them
The dead leaving my message with death only to remember in reunion.
When man fears his own shadow,
How safe is he?
From suffering they die in a slough,
Meeting the faces they have met.
Lovers of wisdom became lovers of body,
Knowing flesh and rubbing skin,
Currency align with cunning,
Pleasure overcame passion.
Virtue and vice lumped together in a loom,
Fragrant display of idolatry,
Loud chanting of addiction by stained voice.
A choir of death clamouring and the audience going wild,
The tale of many doom they told
Their doom they never tell,
What a cocktail.
Overshadowed by living they forgot life,
Their walls emblazoned with sculptural symbols of various faith,
Creed recited with sour voice
Human no longer subjects but objects.
However impossible it seems, it is true,
Man, return to human
For in every human there is a spark of divinity,
The divinity to pursue the end is in you.