Saints of Evil
by Odin Roark

Vultures in white feathered masquerade
Demonstrating,
Propagating,
Disseminating,
Relegating,
But must we tolerate?

For who among us has not wished a cause,
Hoped of peace,
Gazed upon our oft times
Pointless lives and wondered…

Might I find that purpose?

Might an olive branch occupy my grip?

Might I do and be of worth to peace?

Most of us have,
For denying the small innate voice of reason within
Makes but the screaming of logic louder and more painful.

We have most likely
Held our breath as we faced
The other 21st century outhouse of
Ignorance-fueled hate,
Complimented with Bio-enraged bigotry,
Inviting our hard-wired inner self
To step on in as the door is slammed,
Its iconic half moon craving for air,
Sealed by duplicitous stuffing of
Political and moral pundit speak,
The thick denial of a globe’s climate change.

Sadly

Hate and ignorance mongering would have us
Allow them their directional will,
To maintain and service our moral compass,
Direction the dervish impetus of reason.

For whether we approve or not,
Like putrefactive tanks of yore,
Rectitude’s needle-guided direction
Will most likely be replaced
With another as yet unlabeled echo infused cauldron,
An evolved twisted vortex of darkness,
Gorging on the olive branch of peace,
As the wafting stench of ignorant sepsis
Rises from the ever so close edge of man’s odious abyss.

How insidious and stealth
These self proclaimed saints of evil,
These martyrs of waste.