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I’ve lost count of the bodies

the shepherds have copied

and pasted into their sermons,

homogenized Jane Does

victimized by the throes

of sacrificial purpose.

Adherent non-believers

at the pulpit of the deceiver

bowing to almighty riffs.

Heretics in sheep’s wool

veiled enough to pull

a fallen angel’s grift.

Herd the flock from anxiety.

Strip the Father of his piety,

when he adjudges justice

with a corrupted compass.

Through the looking glass,

burns an eclipse,

a reluctant recidivist

at the whims of a bygone tryst.

A global home invasion

sold as a celebration

at the expense of the host.

Righteous festivities

with a proclivity

for upholding unholy prose.

Born from the shattered crystal,

come the flames of the zealot’s vigil,

His “enlightened” echo chamber.

Sick malice of the phallus

restores the twisted palace

of the ironic savior.

Herd the flock from anxiety.

Strip the Father of his piety,

when he adjudges justice

with a corrupted compass.

Through the looking glass

burns an eclipse,

a reluctant recidivist

at the whims of a bygone tryst.

Vindictive self-made victims

addicted to fallacious wisdom.

A fucking flock lobotomized

by propaganda to monopolize

a concept of justice

(that) ought to disgust us.

Through the looking glass

burns an eclipse.

Deluded absolutists

at the whims of a bygone tryst.

Vindictive self-made victims

addicted to fallacious wisdom.

Reductive tomes

are our tomb.

Left unchecked, the vermin will continue to exhume refuse.