Epitome of Ruin

 

Epitome of Ruin

Will they ever learn humility, to turn the distasteful volume down,

The awful sound that they espouse, the hatred that they found.

Will they learn to walk another away, from the loathsome lies,

The odious thoughts, the nasty talk, from the devils in disguise.

 

The wicked games, that are not theirs to play, the roads they trod,

The wicked sport, the sick desire to possess the eternal will of God.

Their choice of wrath, and death, being one with demons served,

Their narrow-minded sects, the strange rituals they have observed.

 

The blind fury that boils inside, the ignorant way that they behave,

As they scornfully toss and turn, from good to bad, in rant and rave.

They are the blasphemy of innocence, the destroyers of dreams,

Driven by homicidal insanity, to impose their despicable extremes.

 

And as they talk the script of hate, and walk the talk of death,

With words that burn the innocent, with the acid on their breath.

They have become the epitome, that burns their souls with angry talk,

Driven by the reckless bitter wind, that fuels thoughtless squawk.

 

They have set the world apart, to the crazy sound of venting forth,

Fueled by their mindless hate, that blows to and from the north.

They have abandoned mothers’ love, turned sacrifice into stone,

That marks the wars, that they have waged, turned life into bone.

 

Perhaps one day their awful sound of vengeance will finally fade,

Their false kingdoms turn to dust; in the sediment they have made.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (April2026)