Upheaval

People call me Confucius,
Not because of my intellect,
Or literate equilibrium,
But of a diaspora;
A confused state of mind
I tend to find myself in.

My sights are beholding,
Corpse in cups,
 And shadows,
causing hiccups,
In every good heart .
A red devil- Cupid,
raising seeds in womankind.

A seed will arise
from the abyssmal,
Born of blood and flesh,
To haunt and taunt,
Every living soul.

Atrocities will swirl,
In scarlet of purple,
Undressed before their sight.
They will fall,
They will give in,
Casting lots on her thigh.

But however,
A generation wont fail,
They won't take a dime,
In the wrath to come
They are desperately
Seeking the kingdom to come.

I hope to fall,
Not to misconduct of vandalism,
But to that Advent of lions,
That are yet to rise,
To put an end to moral misconduct,
Of body and soul.