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.
