"Righteous Evil"

Come my friends, let us not jest this terrible deed bequeath unto us,
Sacred trusts bathed in blood. bought with time, sacrificed to dogs,
Let us not fool ourselves, the hounds of hell are running.

We gather in the fostered wake, the gone not blessed, souls no-reflecting;
Lifeless names. Bubonic faces lean close to kiss, practice to bless,
the UN-forgiven, the enshrouded undead.
Let us not fool ourselves, the hounds of hell are running.

Sweetest syrup, honey over-flowing, glossing over festering sores, spiritual excrement.
Ordorous fumes permeate the cloistered formed, mimicking corporate solidarity,
webbing post-mortum diversions.
Let us not fool ourselves, the hounds of hell are running.

The High Priest, self ordained, despicable loveliness, Hollywood smile.
Beware the beautiful orarty, the illusion of the open hand, for truly this is the
Immortal, the master of the hounds of hell.
Let us not fool ourselves, the hounds of hell are running.

Do not listen to the smoothness of sight, dwell not on the image of beauty of the night,
Touch not the perfect and smooth, least your senses be infected with death's unending wrath..
Less us not fool ourselves, the hounds of hell are running.

Eventhough we as rats in the maze, in the pit of this hideous sewer, we are different,
We know the way out, swimming crawling mid the muck; we reach the hidden door;
The door is secured fast. A faint haunting laughter creeps in to the stillborn silence,
Let us not fool ourselves the hounds of hell are running.

Resigned, defiant, we stand facing our fate, the human vision surcoming to the brackish lake;
the executioner perplexed, our will not perceived, fearing not the house of mannon, the taunting hautiness of Dollar Bill.
Let us not fool ourselves, the hounds of hell are running.

BUT, before you weep, succumb, abdicate, "REMEMBER", your vision through the child's eye.
LIGHT, TRUTH, HONOR, WISDOM, FAITH, blending in the universal force called you!
For now the hounds of hell will run to you, failing to devour,

That which the LORD has made HOLY!

                                                 S.-T.

March 2000, "S.T." Interview sections you may visit (click)
Other poetry by "S.T."


go back