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)
