Mechanical Molech, the
horrid king,
with arms outstretched, besmeared with blood
of human sacrifice, the blood of children,
will not be satiated.
with arms outstretched, besmeared with blood
of human sacrifice, the blood of children,
will not be satiated.
Gears and teeth grind
as the faithfully devoted
send their young into the fire.
as the faithfully devoted
send their young into the fire.
The M-Machine, marching
into war,
with tanks and treads and magazines,
oiled, fueled, and armored for the fight.
“They are not men, but soldiers,”
and he eats them whole.
“Soldiers! Soldiers!”
but his appetite is never satisfied.
So go on, feed your sons,
your daughters, too
into the flames of Molech.
with tanks and treads and magazines,
oiled, fueled, and armored for the fight.
“They are not men, but soldiers,”
and he eats them whole.
“Soldiers! Soldiers!”
but his appetite is never satisfied.
So go on, feed your sons,
your daughters, too
into the flames of Molech.
His militant priests
are already
beating the drums again.
beating the drums again.
This is part of July Anomalies A-Z, a creative writing exercise and not intended to be an altogether accurate picture of the creature described above.
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