like thirty pieces

You pair your justice with untruth. 
Turn ethics sanctified into a spoof.
Tongue-cheeked beliefs manufacture your lies, 
proclamations so contrived;
a broken stake from which you're loosed.

You wear your malice like a shroud; 
burned-up memories and dust settling 'round.
Antique doctrine you'd explode if I said, 
better left rusted and dead
like junked-up heaps at some impound.

You tear the heart out from repose. 
Spurned your wild ideas like yesterday's clothes!
Hand-picked qualities fancied on a lark,
falsely held, surreal and stark;
the thirty pieces which you chose.

I use forgiveness like a broom. 
Attempting surgery to mend my wounds.
Self-licked lacerations make me feel sick, 
my saliva coated thick; 
hymns of agony I croon.

I try to keep compassion live, 
free from speculation, yearning to thrive.
Once-tricked inclination now sees what's real
as my wounds start to congeal; 
your hate's a plank from which you dive.

* * *

To the Boomers and the centrists- you know who you are.