THE TITLE OF THE POEM:
Psychomachian
THE POEM:
Believe there will be finer times
when chilling possibilities
are mostly fictions scarcely read
in warmer small-town living rooms,
where TVs never bleed out news
and dreaming heals easily
along with more belonging songs.
Believe there climbs a higher hill
untouched by such destructive "love"
that worshiped as the heretic
no longer living by the word
because the lie became its truth,
chaos its rule, fool's gold its wealth,
inequity its principle.
That's how soul wars snuck up on us:
so stealthily as decadence
disguised as riling righteousness
—so "good" so many swore by it,
its dogma marking darkness light,
disharmony harmonious,
all crucifixions beautiful.
With flashbang headlines quaking faith
and splintered pillars faltering,
foundations cracked, no longer kept
facades and constitutions firm
on top of every dithering
and trembling and dissembling
and aftershocks of aftershocks.
With winning losing, virtue vice,
confusion oozed unfought through thought.
Deceit invaded reigns and gains
to pledge allegiance to the sin
that twists illicit into fit,
pollution into oxygen,
demonic into godliness.
Then "strength" made weakness, honor shame,
prosperity our poverty
—yet questions meant deliverance
once we could leave our lesser selves,
return our search toward something more
than worldliness, that great disgrace.
That's how we started saving souls.
.THE END OF THE POEM.
Poem by Robert J. Tiess Copyright © 2026
My poem Psychomachian
on the ongoing "soul war" for and in minds all over.
It's partly inspired by Prudentius' ancient poem Psychomachia
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychom...
ALT text + link: allpoetry.com/poem/1890075...
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