"Contempt" would not describe in full
My heart's disgust with worldly man.
Little wonder, then, that I
When gazing in upon my mind
(As I am apt to do for hours)
See bubbling up like molten lead
A vengeful, reckless will to "fix"
The problems plaguing man's good heart.
The roaches found at darkest night
With drunken slur and vicious fight
Should be destroyed or be disarmed
As one would missiles Devil-sent.
Too harsh? Perhaps, but loathe am I
To ease the weight of social right
Placed here by man to mirror sins.
Their acts belie a pious word;
The cost of sinning must be death.
And arbiter of Truth, I'm not,
Nor any perfect soul besides,
But I despise those moral sinks
And wish for one to rid their stink.
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1 comment:
So how do you propose to "fix" the folks who stray? Once you have finished a rant, do you discover any viable ways to make a difference in the lives of others? I'd like to see some poems that address that side of the issue.
Good stuff, as always!
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