Friday, July 2, 2021


The swamp was a putrid mess,
Of entitled detritus,
From long  privileges held,
And stuck, firmly ensconced!

A broom was needed to sweep,
The Augean stables clean,
It needed someone to wield,
In face of indignant protests!

Every age has a Messiah,
Come forth for Deliverance,
The Old gives way to the New,
Only by wreaking damage!

Nothing fades without a noise,
Silently into obscurity,
The shrieks of the dying echo,
For long after they have been killed!

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