Hydra [Pantheon, part I]

Hydra [Pantheon, part I]

Beneath the print, there lies a Hydra,
coiled, buried 'tween the text;
with words that creep inside ya,
controlling what comes next

A world devoid of demigods,
such scales on display;
'midst token steps and heavy nods,
unbalanced all the way

A writhing mass of figureheads,
left proudly on display;
brass necks spun, the way they're led,
the way such scape goats play

Puppets spinning on the wind,
strings pulled on an ill breeze;
as morals bright, they dim, rescind,
corrupted with disease

Grown, well fed, and watered down,
till guillotines, they fall;
a lamb, hung, drawn and quartered, crowned,
... a deeper, darker call

Slaughtered for a reason, raised,
it's fleece hung out to dry;
stripped gold plated seasons, braised,
a corpse riddled with flies

A beast borne with a purpose, low,
its body... it protects;
as heads farmed at a surplus, grow,
bound, buried in the text

with apples sold as cider, sweet,
the devil's out, it rides;
in fine print, there's a Hydra's beat,
in the details... it hides