The Most Malignant Star
The ways of men and women aren’t free
Of vices that are praised as virtuous things.
We listen, look around and hear and see
The devils fly about on angels’ wings.
And if we dare to say that things are not
The things that they’ve been long proclaimed to be,
We then are targeted and left to rot,
As each is hung from each convenient tree.
******
The labels that we use are weapons too
And so are potent, just as bullets are.
For sticks and stones can injure me and you,
But words alone can start or end a war.
So when a virtue is condemned as vice
Or vice versa, this can ripple far
And then, no matter what the sage advice,
The hordes obey the most malignant star.
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Ahuras and asuras are the same
And dewas, devils may be twins as well.
So one gets credit and another, blame,
Although they both, within the other, dwell.
The black and white and all the shades of gray
Are captured in the photographic frame.
And yet, some only hark to yes or nay
And label all with one or other name.
******
Who renders certain proof of distant things
Or certifies what happened in the past?
Was that a bird or a bat that flew on wings
And vanished as the light was ebbing fast?
And so it is that humans fashion feints
To make, of what was first, the very last.
So scoundrels sit in palaces, while saints,
For all their labors, are in dungeons cast.
Brooklyn, New York
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