Of paradox in parody
extremism's jesters
orchestrate their demented
ride on life's carousel
The world is left
spinning on a razor blade,
seriating security
making void any hope or balance
by their surreal and sick satires,
slicing away
at the delicate cords of clarity
until it becomes a slip not
strangling one's sanity.
Standing in the swampland
created by their hostile skill,
craftsman sculpting chaos,
calling it the perfect curative pill.
A planet orbiting through the space
in between two lips
where bias begets its abandoned orphans.
Walking the maze with corruption's slime
on the walls,
seeing the propaganda posters
declaring, "have a nice day,"
words in fine print,
"or else I'll snuff out your life."
Sages who studied in hell's college,
dispensing the knowledge of a lethal education,
doling out butcher knifes
for use as a toothbrush.
Before your mouth
attempts to boast its sagacity,
I want to see the words your fingers write
on another's existence.
Bronze trophy winner
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