As we ponder what is "right"
in the quiet of the night away
from the snarling snickering crowds
- modern day lynch mobs
wielding pitchforked tongues and
cocked and loaded bumpstock fingers
...our naked conscience shivers
in cold reality.
Have we become alien bodysnatchers,
searching for the unbaptized -
those not invited to hell night
where they are initiated into "sameness",
the pseudo enlightened pawns of perfection
who only serve their gilded idols.
An altar where individuality is sacrificed
in the quicksand of group think.
That is the biggest loss as we march
with the pods of perfection.
No "I'll think about it", no "Maybes",
no exuberance nor emotional tears
except for our own special people,
while the shredded unreadable fragments
of the Golden Rule lie scattered
at our feet.
Blackened Crow circle
frightened hardly
-plucking nightly
the fruits of her harvest
pitchforked hollow eyes watch
behind the disguise
of a red worn bandana
impaled
and left to molder
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