chandler collins: On Finding a Home

Red crimson blocks
Furnish a home for which
None live but whom many dream of
Living in

The other
An open door
Beckoning the huddled masses
To the bonfire

A public inferno
An altar to knowledge
And the potential of the everyman
O Father!

How you have left us
Your hope and your home
We are your slaves

Great men creak up
From the grave,
Pass us the torch
To bear

Scarlet fortress
Desolate tombs
Holding ghosts of

You untouchable goddess
Hiding from the virginal minds
Craving rest upon your bosom.