The Old Ones

Cut into granite, holding bow and arrow
"Look at my works, ye mighty, and despair."
Whatever else you'd say about this pharaoh,
you must admit the fellow had a pair.

They stare at us through history, the giants --
can't make them like we used to, we all say --
Their lips still curled in the marquee defiance
of those you are expected to obey.

And were they wrong? Do we have works to rival?
No shortage, in our age, of living gods.
We shout and trumpet, herald their arrival,
in videos squeezed in between the ads.

The Old Ones took it with them in their wisdom.
The new ones? Must work harder to appease them.