The Vault of Lost Tales

Memoirs of an Enchanted Sojourner

Month: December, 2014


Greed is an insatiable gangrenous sickness that cannot be satisfied

Still voraciously hungry even after all that its consumed has died

Leaving no room for bloom, Greed’s only fruit is doom

Inevitable utter destruction, which doesn’t happen late, but soon

Those afflicted with this disease are myopically deluded

Seeing dollar signs where there are none, by facts refuted

Insane lunatics feeding on the flesh of the planet’s people

Monsters once human, dehumanizing humans into sheeple

To justify and rationalize the immoral sacrifice of life on their alter

Recipes to cook us, deemed books religious, from gods who always falter

Off to the slaughter the masses happily and dutifully go

To a fake heaven after death that no one really knows

Hell is here my dear, and Heaven but the leaven of fear

From the frying pan into the fire, as your flesh greed does sear

A meal of veal is how good the taste of your flesh feels

In the mouth of the beast who devours the people at will

With such skill do they peel you from your fate onto their dinner plate

That you foolishly help them season you to their own demonic tastes

No future awaits if you do not escape the mouth of the beast

Who with his fool’s gold and monopoly money, has made of you its feast

Turn away from the bait, there was never any money for you to make

Money is the bait of Mammon, to lure you into the oven as part of his cake

Eating you and feeding on you, from the inside through to the outside

A parasite consuming its host, but whom without its host cannot survive

A conundrum and a paradox that the diseased who feeds is ironically blind to

Eventually leading to the eating of its own flesh, which is to itself a crime too

The sweet meat of defeat a treat on which the beast feasts until there is none left

Biting down until the crown of its own palette is cleft and he finds himself bereft

Because the cure is so pure for the illness of theft, that greed inevitably feeds on itself

It looks human and wears a suit to boot, but it is alien in its passions like no other animal

It goes by the title “CEO;” disguised as ‘one of the guys,’ are the lies of the auto-cannibal


I start with a little blush

Your love causing my cheeks to flush

The foundation applied by your trust

Covers the blemishes for fear of lust

I see in my eyes your shadow

The mirror reflecting your soul’s arrow

The mascara of joyful tears coating my lashes

For the love you have resurrected from discord’s ashes

A little concealer for my bruised feeler

A little liner to enhance love’s designer

Press your lips against mine until they stick

Color them with the taste of love’s lick

The best thing about when we fight is that there is no break-up

My face brightened and painted by the love that colors it when we Make-Up