Photo by: Scott Wyden
Submitted for "One Shoot Sunday" Photo Prompt Challenge at onestoppoetry.com
The ambition of the miniscule in a conglomerate ideal
Unscathed canvas for the primordial to unearth
Take fruit to make preservative
An artificial flavor
A chemical imbalance of power
A pesticide
In time, they march to Sousa’s drums
Of Creationism
Of Capitalism
Of Nationalism
Socialism, Darwinism
Natural Schisms to draw, or paint the lines between
Imaginary blocks, states, borders and territories
Pissing ants and drone bees
Their excruciating work to build a better Hive
Cyclical repetition, hierarchy scolding hot as the Son they work beneath
Serfs on turf : Endangered, indentured servants
But not for game, or personal gain, nor for the slice of pie
For the whole sphere
As the Queen sits on her throne, observing the pawns
The Bishops slant their eyes and dot their teas with bagged lye
While the Red Knights threaten adjacent colonies, waging single letters as entire wars
And the sandcastles stand teetering upon unsteady ground, a cowardly King, weeping solely
Vast expeditions to find a crumb and reverberate the news
Only to turn a page, and invade the picnic
Insecticide for a greater good, however morose it immediately seems
The crown will nod, and all is forgiven
Masons poisoned into the delusion of “Free”
Combed by the sweet nectar of honey, unaware, of the sweet life lived short
All the ingenuity of beings
All the will and nature’s instilled equations
Can’t save them from themselves
From their Queen
From one another
From their Mother
With one swoop, She wipes them flat
With one shake, She brings them to their knees
With one spew, She liquefies their hearts and clouds their judgment
With one stomp, the Sandcastle is no more
Synchronized March of the futile continues
April showers us with remorse to regenerate
Yet the May bees and Forget-me-nots
Repeatedly forget
