Poem: Spynets

My pen, in-between my fingers, has begun to dance,
Unexplained lags in my mind like it's been in a trance;

The dance must continue without leaving a lacuna,
And in the end of it all, I'll sing like PUMBA and TIMONE, akuna-matata;

Bigots slowly taking over the sacred inn,
The synagogue of Yahweh, we were taught to be a sacred bin;

We come as we are with great hopes for divine transformation,
But the blind leads the blind, from nowhere will come the reformation;

Tentacles spread to every nook and cranny like cobwebs,
Even the closest person to you is a part of these Spynets;

You can be arrested for talking and saying the wrong thing,
But never can that be when you hold your piece and spill not a thing;

You leave a lacuna of ginormous magnitude,
Yet, in gruesome guffaw, they treat you with a patronising attitude;

Our holy hands now weapons of mass destruction,
The Holy Book now painted black and unprofitable for instruction;

Our lives as believers used to be a mirror,
But now, that mirror has turned into a canon of horror;

Yahweh! O Yahweh!!
Calleth I out,
Descend now from above
Crieth I and spout!

By Akhimien Monday