Sanctimonious Sod



Resentment builds against the person, against the machine, preaching what is right, unwavering in its duplicity Yet what is left when it is gone? Chaotic simplicity? Is intrinsically in us — need for the machine?



There's always one — the know it all
Preaching in familiar waves of hippocratic avenues, that stretch and bend but never sway
Egocentricity is his parody
Applaud the Sanctimonious Sod

Words rain from high his place self decided, without preamble and who are we to right it
The platitudes of preacher
Tumultuous teacher
Revere the Sanctimonious Sod

Yet now and then the lone voice gathers, imperceptibly raining granite without remorse
Challenging discourse
Slaying sweet the source
Defeat the sanctimonious sod

How hollow are the hallowed halls, deafening us, chaotic silence disrupting equilibrium
Melancholy in despair
Wretched sorrow laid bare
Grieve the Sanctimonious Sod

Who will seek to right the wrong — if wrong is what was done at all, 'nothingness' be filled
Through blood sweat hands
Skin flayed to bone
Only then can we begin
Resurrect the Sanctimonious Sod

What does it tell of us within?



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