It is a bizarre certainty wherein a self-professing evolved species feasts on the flesh of their fellow sentients.
“Where do they go when they sleep?” Asked the Providence.
“To the Binds,” Replied the Ebb of Night.
“What is there, in the Binds?” He quizzed her.
“Realities unbound by conventions,” she told him. “Where the laws of physics and tyrants carry no sway.”
THE RIVER NIGH
Blood flows the Crimson through the River Nigh
Where frightened eyes beg, woeful Gods deny
Where steely knives bargain with fleshly hue
Grieving lives bleed sorrow come Crimson due
If I were to adopt the artful craft of war and destruction, or to dawn the fabulous fashions of coercion and brutality, or to sharpen the edge of cruelty and savagery, then who among you can deny the purity of my humanity? Speak now.
How can I stand with any in their struggle for social justice and human rights when they of such limited vision and grand self-concern ignore the suffering of world’s most “insignificant”? If they cannot take a stand for animal rights, the world’s most vulnerable, then their concerns are the least concerns of mine no matter the ramifications, for they are themselves, despite a magnanimous pretension, a vein feeding the hand of Tyranny.
Can happiness exist amid sorrow,
satisfaction aside misery,
laughter among tears?
To the unaware, yes.
HAIKU 666 – 1
When truth seeks sorrow
Those who speak they’d rather kill
Lies birth wretched Gods
Wails, wailing like presaging banshees banished from Hell,
bail grotesque from Butchertown.
Where no one cares, no ear hears.
No one laments the bargain-valued flesh cut from Butchertown.
If I could, I would fly away
to a cloudland hideaway
Sail a breeze on a swell
Float in solitude there dwell
Far away I’d fly away
and tell below to, “Go to hell.”