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.
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.
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.
Jeff Carter is an artist and a pastor (or a pastor and an artist). He used to feel like he was the token liberal among his denomination, but is discovering a fine community of like-minded progressives. He writes and takes pictures almost everyday, and enjoys mangling Bob Dylan songs on his guitar.