The Gilded Age

Created in the mills by fortune seeking men

a terror springs and's set forth to ravage foreign lands

With metal plated scales and breathing smoke and flames

the new monstrosity of progress seeking victims to claim

The countryside is leveled and green turned to gray

while the sky is scorched and starry nights are hidden away

Homes replaced by castles where serfs are shackled in

to have their daily bread, they must work til' dusk begins

What once was God's country and enjoyed by one and all

now becomes property to those within its walls

Magic, tales, and wonder are lost to uniformity and guilt

the once beautiful plains have now been overbuilt

Forests reaching skyward are blackened by coal and soot

while iron giants level lands where holy relics once stood

What was a land of greenery, flourishing and vast

now drowned in concrete spanning high, shameful of its past

The winged form of innovation does not stop at sea

for it flies across to other shores and ravages their peace

While some took to the hills, others sold their souls

and bought a piece of plated steel to turn it into gold

Concrete forests and glimmering lights shine well on man's mistrust

their fear of darkness in and out lies deep inside the iron's rust

while wise men watch and shake their heads, pleading to the sky

"Why must we burn our gardens to make room for empty lives?"

O' sorrow to the foolish creatures for unleashing such a beast

No weapon can ever stop it's path for it feeds on desire and human greed

It's gilded body shines too brightly into mankind's mind

where the pious are corrupted and third eyed man's gone blind.

Mother will not stand for such a monster on her skin

the cancer which has taken hold will pay deeply for their sins

though once man was part of nature, balanced and in check

now faced to pay the piper with the only thing they've left.

The Wanderer

Across the river cloaked in brown

tall stature old and gray.

A light does shine upon his face

a traveler on his way.

The trees do glow a vivid green

and reflect upon his presence

the wise old man with staff in hand

seeks his way to heaven.

Let not be told the tales that passed

for the future is so dim

His mind acute and sense sharp

to what many may seem grim.

Over the pebbles water flows

and guides the way down stream

He follows where the forces guide

while the warm air he calmly breathes.

Two men approach and look across

blades upon the sides.

They seeks the devil walking near

with vengeance on their minds.

One man raises his sights

to look across the bay.

The other follows swiftly

as they swarm upon their pray.

As trampling hooves gallop forth

across the shallow flow

the gray old man walks calmly

moving with the wind's blow.

As surely he should be alarmed

shortly trampled underfoot

Instead he turns to face them

with a calm and charming look.

His staff is raised and shines

and the hills do tremble forth.

The branches fall asunder

knocking the riders off.

They fall feet from the sorcerer

who looks upon their plight

while the horses quickly calm

and prance to his side.

The kings they beg for mercy

as they came to find a man

who's said to've caused a plunder

and cursed their torched land.

He gave a gaze and smoked his wooden pipe

with a twinkle in his eye.

He said to return to their land

and all will be revitalized.

The hill then swarmed a warm breeze

and carried him away

before the men could thank him

he'd gone upon his way.

Be not quick to judge

the strangers and the odd

they may seem to be demons

when really sent by gods.