A Cursed Battalion - A Vile Situation

A group of intelligent adjuncts - a novel sense of community - a poem.

Social media’s medicine
Has hoisted strength of unison;
For every actual denizen
Belongs to Earth’s surviving den…

Wider oceans’ galleons
Take warships sold to lesser ones,
Whose proxy’s wear medallions;
Cursed sails, these fazed battalions.

Prosper with those rich rewards;
Relaying happy, pleasant chords;
But simply dump those evil swords -
Attrition’s what they’re aiming towards.

Those proximal and saintly youth -
Behemoths who rely on truth -
Paramount, their screams uncouth;
Prouder than an old phone booth.

The newest zones come into play.
Knowing there’s a smarter way,
They now advance their cool display.
Smoking butts squeezed in an ashtray…

These voices heard, quite loud in earnest,
Equipped by souls who stoke them best;
The rapture seen by every guest.
Those engineered must pass the test.