A New Inquisition

The sun folds downward.

Freedom fades behind glass towers.

Sirens curse the dusk.

Ignorance now reigns.

New inquisitors arrive

wrapped in sacred robes.

Black suits cross marble halls.

White collars dictate hunger.

Gold devours the soul.

The golden calf laughs.

Working hands grow old and numb.

The coffers disappear.

This is our Sodom:

markets feeding on the poor

while prophets sell fear.

Flags wave over ash.

The faithful kneel before power,

calling it divine.

Trump is but a sign,

a fever from deeper illness—

the rot beneath law.

Secret networks bloom

inside courts and ministries.

Autocracy wins.

Fanatics now preach

through think tanks and polished screens.

Their scriptures worship power.

Opus Dei prayers.

Federalist shadows rise.

Lobbyists chant war.

AIPAC corridors.

Heritage drafts the collapse.

Parties bow for coins.

Christian, Muslim, Jew,

Hindu, Buddhist masks alike—

power wears all faiths.

Yet somewhere a child

still paints moons on broken walls.

The soul has not died.

And beneath some rot,

earth remembers older songs

before empires spoke.