Jungle Games

[frankprestige]

Cockeyed crooks and carnivores
snarl and grin - with bloodstained fangs
- and swarm villages of free thought.
Dark violet puddles dot
the trampled mud
and those
with the bald audacity
hide
in the caves and crevices
of the mountains.

Radio messages convey
urgent intelligence;
just barely
audible
over the crackling trench fires
and chest thumping lunatic preachers
that stand tall
on the shaky pedestals 
of their own esteem.
The piles of bonfire corpses
and debris
leave little room for doubt
or second thoughts.

As the ash laden wind
carries whispers
of a great machine
being built in the East,
the mountains sag
under the weight of collective
and enlightened
despair.