I have indeed
Encountered evil
In the holiest of places.
Gnashing of teeth
Fueled by fear
By the faithful to a gospel
They personally
Not know yet.
Altars are lifted daily
To the gods of comfort
To the gods of power
To the gods of me and myself
To the gods of manipulation
And deceit.
The real altar’s veil
Was ripped
With edges stained in
Righteous blood
Healing and wholesome.
Ready to pour out milk and honey sweet as can be.
Yet their worship were rituals
For placing smoke curtains
to keep all doped in a haze of uncertainty and confusion.
Any one halfhearted mastermind of mediocrity
can shepherd half-living sheep
Who no longer know when
they feed or thirst.
©Copyright 2016 by #ir-reverend
poeticprophecy.com 