Purity

Universal inanity supplants universal values. The arguments we devise to divide iterate From one demagogue to the next. To the chair of America, we wrote: We have loosed a plague upon our own land, But since we are merciful, We will let it live, Perhaps even thrive. But beware its contamination And do not mingle with its indelible mark. Washing it will only turn our rivers black with ink. And to the chair of China, we wrote: Your own prosperity brings the rats closer to fruit. Take heed and watch your women, Who lack the judgment to discern black devils. Demonic impulses towards this purity proves God is near. Now to the chair of Zimbabwe, write: The sins of the father are always inherited by the son. He, who has yoked and lashed your people for centuries, Should pay penance for his birthright's emblem, Lightly sprinkle dust in your eyes for soothing fancies. And to the chair of France write: We stand for freedom and justice, Breaking bars and loosing chains. But unwashed masses pollute this serenity, Serenity which may still yet be preserved by Banishing oppressive shrouds With heavy hand. Mere permutations of its progenitors, The wooden creativity we beget bores As these proclamations echo. Female flesh no longer ensnares men with guile But becomes a shrine of all palatable humanity. Suffer the little children, inheritors inflated with Lies streamed through complacency and guilt. We flaunt our hearts, Balking purity and denying effulgence To that menace in the corner. They see us more clearly than we them, Our pallor some dingy neon sign to an equally Squalid flat. Why should I feel tenderness towards what I was endowed? I might as well cast love upon curled hair or freckled faces. Do I dare judge the multitudes like an impotent god, Or an all-seeing eye clouded by cataracts? So let us feign for a few more precious moments. Then we may part.