Red Earth

What ichor flows through these plastic veins?
Yellow putrescence  mocking dreary rituals of life

A bilious thread of bubbling rot
Corrupting the vital web of community

 Its strands quivering silently, then suddenly alight in damning flame

 Plastic paradise erupting in terrible, jubilant sacrifice

The many-limbed and mindless mob cheering its own bloody baptism

These figurines of folly

Their bulwarks naught but ashes

Of a better, kinder age.