Decoding the Mad

The sounds of the sea beseeched far set landlocked humble keeper,
To bless the voice of demons in rapturous response in Kilimanjaro,
Japans far off coast awaits young men who never left home before,
Singing like the birds feeling naturally astounded in imperfect form,
Serving uniforms like numbers to protect a country,
Music sounding like Sinatra's Jazz band blazing in the back,
Like the Tower of Babble tugging to learn the languages no one cares for,
In modest esteem pinning perfect art in forms of words played on imagination,
Describing the eyes that block a passage to a peaceful soul like tinted glass,
Confusing it is that no one will know what I am even saying really,
Decoding the words of mad prophets into religious arguments,
Uphold the amendments to the first degree, it's not war its murder of words,
Let us debate, shall we?