I Didn't Want to Prophesy (but somehow did)

The dragon's teeth were carefully sown
years upon years and rows on rows.
The earth lay still
then



it smoked.

Tender wisps like tendrils.

Soon they were puffs
that grew into clouds.
As the earth shook
a snout appeared, scaly and narrow
lifted slowly to life, the jaws opened to reveal rows of teeth
leading to a fiery pit deep within the belly.

Gold was the only crave it knew
so it released smelting fires
scorching the earth, such bountiful harvest.

It emerged corpulent and starving
ready to hew its claws to sate its metal lust
because blood tastes like copper
and it's pennies on the gold coin--
better to short than starve
when the harvest built only hunger.
Storehouse were left empty
to cash out and pander base instincts
or burn on an altar to the dragon

Oh, they did not see it as self-immolation as their faces ground into the dirt--
they did not see their aggressor true
or perhaps inconvenient truths came to dine.
The finger was an easier solution
but it only went up their own ass
ready to disgust them when they pull out for a look at the other end.