Those that want to come can,
But only bring they, not them.
Them are the latest parasite,
Them are the newest blight.
Them, poxes on unblemished skin.
Them, goats overloaded with sin.
Send out your braying offerings,
Slit open their gullets, but keep those hands clean.
Let the world be drowned in the blood of the tainted,
But mind your stems and flats, you whores standing sainted.
You were them in another bygone age,
But for a pittance of silver, you forsake your claim.
Woe to you, poor pilgrims of purity.
Woe to you, and your decaying authority.
The bray beyond your vaunted walls
Is a beast of recompense that obeys no one’s law.

Those that are an I or me, well met.
Those who lust for mob justice, we judge, no justifying them.
Them are the masked menace, skulking.
Them make death graceless, desultory.
Them, boils on the spirit skin.
Them, disappearing citizens.
Trot out their android of puppycide,
Waving pet skin like a flag of pride,
Doesn’t even know she’s died.
Let nations fall, but not before them who
Think themselves incapable of crime or sin.
But guard your own, your kin, your found family.
You saints who tried truly to end the siege amicably.
Some of them were once a you or an I,
Before they needed permission to have their own minds.
But to be called special again,
To hallucinate their DNA elevates them,
They’ll cut any throat who won’t claim
To share the hallucination.
Woe to them, armed heavily yet mightily scared.
Woe to our children who won’t be able to breathe the air.
The flag at half-mast for a dead Klansman.
The fading felon masturbating to the power he’s handed.
His flesh blighted outwardly by internal rot.
His bones picked clean by opportunists who use him as a prop.