~
Salvation comes with a price--
Pried open doors,
choir songs of fingerdust
resurrecting goldrush,
and a pretty little
cromulent called whitewash.
New century martyrs
have risen up to burn books,
and quotes,
and tongues,
and every contrariwise thought,
--is this intuition or inquisition?
What ascends is trapped within
tenebrific clouds,
returning to barren ground
when it rains unholy prayers.
They don't crusade for you or me.
They contest for dominion and mastery.
Those who believe are mooncalf.
This torchlight of intolerance
sends out skyrockets,
and away it goes!
trending on your homepage:
Past generations
burning at the stake,
at the hands of sinners clothed as saints,
in cathedral oblivion,
dismembering their future
in the blood of their own children.
Amen?
~