Tag Archive | evil

The Game Of Good And Evil

Chronic Theatre Of War

Who knows well the term war games as if in a play?
What theater of warfare and audience hears
Only words that inflame it? Passion remains blind.
Am I real or automaton, absent of mind
Yet with reason and values. The story appears
Darkly human a pastime of moral decay.

Good and evil in balance is not a good game,
But with positive forces triumphant always,
Things would get awfully boring. A more perfect one
Is where good nearly loses, but true loss is none.
By a weird fluke of nature are honor and praise
Special traits of a species that cannot know shame.

Practical is a system where the good side wins
All the time but is never the winner, perse,
And the evil side loses always but never
Is the loser. And this could go on forever.
Successful and ongoing is war fought this way
As it keeps people distracted from all their sins.

Every group of nice people needs one of assholes.
Each becomes the director of the others acts.
As each defines the other, they know who they are.
And each means of encounter must not stray too far
From the issues pertaining to whites, browns, and blacks.
May God’s mercy descend upon our troubled souls.

The Scourge Of Religion

Pandemic Of Soul

When a star starts making iron it will explode
In spectacular fashion. The power released
Can disrupt forming galaxies lightyears away.
It creates the stuff so fast one could rightly say
Mass production of heavy substances at least
Shows a violent cosmos in expressive mode.

What to make of the evil that money can buy?
One handful of the right souls now comes rather cheap
To the ones who can purchase behavior at will.
The right price can make good soldiers not want to kill
To defend their damned nation. The karma they reap
They will want to take care of long before they die.

Fighting over a small thing is not a big deal.
If we both want something, one of us will concede.
In a matter of time, one comes to one’s senses.
Take the damned thing and blow it! Too much expense is
Being paid by my spirit. I’d rather be freed
To get on with my best living in what is real.

But we fight for, over, and about God these days
As we have throughout history, and it’s insane.
If I believe in something but you… not the same,
In time we’ll kill each other and then place the blame
Anywhere but where it must go. All who are slain
Are but fodder for furtherance of toxic praise.

Over is the day of the sword. Now we kill more.
With the push of a button whole countries can be
Blown to bits within minutes without knowing why
Some asshole has decided that their kind must die
Over some subtle nonsense. We’ll never agree
And cannot be surprised by what else is in store.

Now, a global directive is what is needed.
One’s religion is one’s own business to pursue.
Do whatever the hell you want, but go in peace.
Beliefs global and national surely must cease
Or we face our extinction. But can this we do?
Our beliefs are not knowledge. Too many are dead.

The Meaning Of Life

Fundamental Purpose

If one has but a ‘why’ one can bear any ‘how.’
As suggested by Nietzsche, life is very hard.
Does this mean I am tested in all that I do?
Certainly! There is darkness I must look into
For the purpose of healing whatever is scarred
By neglect of my visiting outside of now.

In the darkest of places, if I can still find
A faint glimmer of something, I’ll know it’s real light.
Life’s malevolence is ineradicable.
The intent and extent is unfathomable.
I need Sustaining Meaning to keep me alright.
If well-armed with some virtue, then I am aligned.

A life instinct is meaning. I need a reason
To get out of bed even on terrible days.
Nobleness in one’s purpose is not optional.
If one has not, then one is most vulnerable
To the clutches of evil and all of its ways.
Clutching on to some purpose, true life is begun.

I’ll get out and do something. It may turn out wrong,
But at least I’ll have learned then correct my mistakes.
My remaining in stasis leads to getting old
And decrepit from laziness. Purpose is gold.
Life is hopelessly woven in fear and heartbreaks.
Pointed in some direction, I am somewhat strong.

Death Of The Party

Perverse Entertainment

Human drama unfolds as expected these days.
One need not own a TV to sense what is news.
Any person of color can feel the outrage
Of the animal instinct. Upon the world stage
The racist body politic echoes its views
Of righteous indignation and will to abrase.

A sedate subtle simmering has not its peak.
A political time bomb is due to go off
Yet it can’t be determined when it will explode.
I prepare my strange heart for the next episode.
Deep dark damaging hatred is noting to scoff.
Sanity within safety is all that I seek.

My last visit to my bank was just such a test.
The Caucasian bank teller did ask me if I
Added all of the numbers up all on my own
But I chose to ignore her despicable tone
Lest a knee to the neck be my fate if I try
To respond as appropriate. How is this best?

I live not in a nation where I can feel safe
Let alone feel some ownership of my homeland.
Even though proper people now have taken charge
Civil war is a chronic event by and large.
The nature of the hatred I can’t understand.
All I know is I’m feeling much more like a waif.

The Saddest Lines

The Story Unending

I could write some sad lines with this sorry assed life,
And it don’t take too damned much to jerk myself off.
In some ways it’s a blessing perfecting the fool
So that love has a purpose to earn ridicule
From the sensible masses. The dog whistle cough
Is a thickness I cut through with my psychic knife.

In her heart she defeats me, and I know not why
In the midst of eternity now should occur.
 Incremental dissolving of love not cared for
And forever unspoken I cannot ignore.
How I long for the sweetness of things as they were
Is the reason I can’t go for a second try.

Some unknown evil spirit has occupied me.
What has taken my feelings infiltrates the void
Where my heart felt at home once. The unwanted guest
Is the hermit made harlot at one with my nest.
Will I get myself back without being destroyed?
Time I have plenty of. I shall just wait and see.

I can write through the darkness as if it were light.
Make believe is an artform the whore understands.
Illusion may expel her or turn her into
A benevolent entity. These lines are few
And the last to be offered. Survival demands
That I learn, then move on with improvement in sight.

Smoke And Mirrors

The Never Ending Illusion

Need one go to the devil or just sit in place
And observe what is happening on some device?
Satan has made his presence for those who believe
That personified evil will grant no reprieve
From the ongoing nightmare. It doesn’t think twice
All at once of supremacy for the white race.

Not perceived in the darkness and stale, misty haze
Is a stage even blacker. The psychic ink hole
Draws those near it into it. Their certain demise
Comes to everyone else but them not a surprise.
What is feared may be known is the hate in its soul
As expressed through its armies prepared for ‘last days.’

We can see not the drama in true light of day.
Everything made mysterious, all that is shown
Is appended illusion to make the shell game
Just a bit more spectacular – and there’s no shame.
Those who dare rewrite history, let it be known
That you, as the minority, won’t get your way.

Naïve are not the hated who manage their fear
On a day-to-day basis. The madness may come
Unexpectedly swiftly. My life is worth less
Since this demon stole office. I can’t second guess
What the wild have conspired by the beat of his drum.
Will I be any safer when this stage is clear?