Machines

Black smog billows from the bleak beaks
Of buzzards who orbit in the dreadful stench.
Dark, dank buildings sink, rise, and clench
Around the one who is lost and seeks
Death.

Selfness and greed run rampant in the streets,
For false treasures lie veiled in fulfillment.
Thick liquid drips crimson on cracking cement
While the old, rotten king eats
his Pigskin.

But beneath the filth, a New Machine churns!
Pumping and flowing like fresheartbeats—
Its untamable flame, strengthening, meets
The city and all is complete; the world burns
Up.