National Writers Syndicate - Robed Ones of Injustice

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Poetry; Pol Satire & Clerihew

Robed Ones of Injustice

Written by Carrie K. Hutchens

by Carrie K. Hutchens

I stand humbly before the robed one, my eyes down-cast, heart beating wildly as the thoughts and fears rush and crush my ever hope and dream to be. ....

....When was it that I stepped upon the path to lead me here... here to the world of words and games to be played. A world where the robed ones rise so far above all others, until their darkness slips through the masquerade of perfection and suffocates the life of the helpless given to them to curse, defile and destroy.

What gods these robed ones have lifted themselves to be in the cold world of make believe. A world where all is only as they have chosen it to be and no one may challenge this moment, or any of the many before... not even me... the one now braced before the cold existence of the robed one, as my fate slips from the vile lips to be given for all to devour in their feast of madness. A madness seeking to feed upon my very soul.

A tear touches my cheek. The robed one smiles and I realize the treasure I have unwittingly bestowed upon this creature of darkness. The treasure of power. The submission of my strength and all that I was and might have come to be, for now there are no tomorrows left to be touched, but only memories of the days once embraced and caressed in sanity, as reason reigned in goodness and a path thriving in hope and a wonder of all things to come.

What gods these robed ones have lifted themselves to be in the cold world of make believe. A world where all is only as they have woven it to be and no one may challenge the moment, or any of the many before... not even thee... the one to be braced before the cold existence of the robed one, as thy fate slips from the vile lips to be given for all to devour in their feast of madness. A madness seeking to feed upon the souls of thee crusaders one and all.

I raise my gaze to meet the eyes before me. The eyes of the robed one that dares me not be so bold, but I no longer do as I am told. My soul is not for sale nor shall it be upon the platter of conquered ones delighted over and then forgotten. Forgotten and dismissed, as the robed ones move on to the next victim of their insanity that taunts and toys with the rationale of all things, until it is no more. No, I shall not be upon that platter, nor shall I be a feast devoured by their crazed madness.

In a moment of purpose... in a defiance of the ages before... I look into the piercing eyes of injustice and mock it's hideous stench of flowing and festering deceit. Look into its eyes and the existence of a reality it cannot shatter nor slither from -- the truth! The truth that shall always come to haunt the deceivers even if only in their nightmares of everlasting torment! But as I stand before the robed one, I have no desire to wait for the nightmares of night to come. Instead, I refuse to submit to the madness and decay. My slaughter shall be for another day, if ever it be... for now... in this awakening of light... I shall stand tall and proud against the creatures of a world reversed and a day of darkness with a night of light and shadows filled with robed ones of injustice.

Copyrighted 2007 - Carrie K. Hutchens