Yet [*/+/^] : 27.225 MHz, Some Final Measures; To A Sadducee [After Mark 5:1-13]

The arrogance that your snide tone presumes

fully discloses your many disdains.

Perhaps, you, yourself should have been put in chains

and left outside of Gadara, among the tombs:

among the rancid, decomposing dead,

to inhale their noxious odors and foul fumes;

to skulk among bent shadows, screaming your head

off, wholy aware that the sound of every word

that falls from your enlarged mouth is a noise

like hideous insects make and none of your peers enjoys.

For all your effort, no one listens:  you are not really heard.

Yourself is what your selfishness mostly destroys.

You are a living blasphemy, a baleful blast, a bane;

upon the fabric of life, you smear an offensive stain.


J-Called

[*/+/^]

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Although the poem contains fourteen rhymed lines, it cannot be called a sonnet, as the lines present an irregula meter, meant to be an audible analogue to the subject matter.

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