"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
A cathedral: moated, protecting Heaven from endless fear.
Within a cloistered protectorate, the guardian of the Seventh Sphere;
that of virtue, where the bravest never shed a tear.
Around the Pergola de Academe sat a master with sagacity.
Surrounded by the youth eager to hear a masterpiece.
In the distance, sounds of clashing things, swords and mortar rattling.
In the circle a lesson: "never let your capacities be overcome by lack of reach."
The master's hand extended with pointed finger toward the castle's Greens;
"The children there are stewards of perfect virtuous mastery.
They haven't lost their vision; persistent in their pursuit of ends.
But never so blinded that they would use a friend."
Virtue is a striving for, but it's a goal without trajectory.
One can only hope to aim correctly.
"Carnality's vestige." Hope here is truly transience.
A room divided by the six desires from the grand Hedonist.
They talk of Demons. But only phantoms tend to manifest.
Irony: substantial grips on the temporary meaningless.
The Forever War: manufacturing weapons and necklaces.
Bread and swords. Unleaded or synthetic oil.
Beds to eat your breakfast in or simply to have sex with whores.
To the 5-star, they "toss your salad" with peppercorns.
Machines to copy text to message boards with propaganda.
Disassociating self, alienation, a shot for cameras.
The constant hammering, development, suburban sprawl.
Covering Earth with dogs and sipping sugar through Slurpee straws.
Dehydrated minds naked and blind, tell me what you're thirsty for...
But never ask questions... there's the television. Turn it on.
Within these walls, esteem falls; a sea-squall of grief.
Long dreams of results, but more reason to feast on.
Greased and dripping disease, raw pickings: they eat.
False systems repeat wrong traditions to each pawn.
Chessboard divided by flesh wounds and cyanide.
Organs shine through the vestibule, ingesting food like iodine.
Healthcare professionals might x-ray to inflate the bill;
and as you approach the matrix, still you can choose to take the pill.
But if you refuse, don't expect to escape the reel;
another tape to pull mistaken fools through the bake-n-kill.
Distort organs with bacon; real or fake: become statistic.
No grammar to explain it proper; poetic justice misfit.
The language: dangerous, prompting a war on your plainness.
Victory's secret mistress defeated by physical self estrangement.
Hear the clank of the falling minted currency currently.
Connect the circuitry to feed the system's gambling addiction.
Automated trading, economic murdering perfectly.
We all stand for this cancerous demand to be the richest.
Picture the scene. Suited minions of Greed.
Finger-jabbing germ-infested touchscreens until lunch.
Shovel muck into the gullet; quickly revisit the stream.
Fall into the same river with currents pigmented green.
Keep your vision to the screen as digits remain in flux;
all this talk of gun control... fighting to sustain their bucks.
Don't get it twisted though; many slaughter for amazing stuff.
Operating within a system that can hardly take a punch.
Graphs and diagrams make intelligible avarice.
So save up for your next piece of chemical and plastic mix.
"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
This is paradise hidden from any semblance of fear.
I've seen billboards with more authentic sincerity.
Perception twisted by a Heavenly Parody.
A Shakespearean comedy.