“To cherish and stimulate the activity of the human mind, by multiplying the objects of enterprise, is not among the least considerable of the expedients, by which the wealth of a nation may be promoted.” -Alexander Hamilton (1791)
“One of the great principles of socialism is division. If everything is racist, then nothing is racist. In our culture today, we have many racial issues that need to be dealt with. And in my estimation, we were making some progress, and growing and dealing with those things. But when all of the discussion now is, ‘Everything is racist,’ the real issues never get touched.” – Rev. David Jeremiah
Textured as it is in prescience Are those things outside of science Among these is the legend of Dorian Gray Of which there is much yet to say
Images that stick through flesh like a knife Sliced cleanly through the heart of life Young Dorian finds his way to London Town Gray yet garish, it would unsettle a clown
Not everything is made better with tea His walk through memories do not seek sympathy Like sketches on an easel, cold and without pity It lays the scene when death becomes the party
Introduced as he is to the ways of wanton sin As they say, let the bacchanalian games begin Closed doors hide the way to forgotten scenes The stuff of bad memories and worse dreams
The more one looks on the more that can be seen The artist takes a peek deep inside a human's being The Hellfire Club awaits the seeker's open door These are the ways of darkness and then something more
Nailing oneself to the Devil's altar, so they say Would be the price taking the soul of Dorian Gray There's no more elegant a philosopher than folly Cheers! Drink up young man with frolic's trim of jolly
People die it seems through the drag of commonsense As they lose themselves in distracted bits of pretense One lost moment sucked out of life, one at a time This truth is the most diabolical of half-missed crimes
These lessons burn hard in the hottest fleck of flame Those pleasures that exist beyond all of shame In Victorian Days of unspoiled young and graceless beauty Young Dorian reaches far beyond his half believed duty
Heeding the call of the Devil's altar, he reaches Learning from all of the sermons that vanity teaches To remain young forever is the deal that's made The Devil's jest passes for what he calls a fair trade
(c) October 5, 2021 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“The instrument by which it [government] must act are either the AUTHORITY of the laws or FORCE. If the first be destroyed, the last must be substituted; and where this becomes the ordinary instrument of government there is an end to liberty!” – Alexander Hamilton (1794)
These parasites came to bring decay Destroying the vestiges of yesterday They prey on the last of our humanity Killing in waves depleting our society
Making it impossible to be withstood Setting fire to our planet and its woods Rats, insects and paralyzing pestilence Are waged on us to destroy our resilience
Scavenging our lives for our survival Is the path forward since their arrival Already inside we know we are already dead The only thing keeping us going is mankind's thread
Of hope that even if we have no hope going forward We will have the ability to keep going onward This then is our great and deadly path of sorrow Brazen as we hope for any new sort of tomorrow
Struggling each day just to barely persist Fighting each step that we will yet exist In this world there is only adapt or die As we keep waiting for salvation from the sky
Seared in our souls by heat of the fire The turns of darkness know our black desire Our appetite for destruction makes flame breathe Taking on the enemy is anger's small reprieve
Anything is possible when needed bad enough The jester's folly calls on mankind's bluff Is it enough to the know the cost of sweet pain In an apocalyptic world gone bleak and insane
Where then has humanity gone? How can we hope to carry on? Reborn into the siege of me and you What then will our children do?
Turning the tide we stand to staunch the fight Knowing that we may never make it right Keeping the enemy in line of our deadly sight We will yet turn back the black of this night
That we might survive feels like our confusion Given as it is to be our cruelest illusion Crushed as we are we will still fight on Until that is, all humanity is gone
(c) October 4, 2021 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
First Halloween poem of the season – alien apocalypse theme
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along