Belshazzar’s Last Feast: A Dirge For Those Who Only March With Left Feet




Swinging suggestions at good intentions

.                        Each word, nay, letter and syllable is condemned with graffiti.

The accuser sits with pen in hand, swiping red ink at words,

.                           like a monster thrashing about for air.

 .                        Each word written off, the accuser sniggers,

.                              “This one won’t be getting my “like”, my ‘’comment” or “share”.

Always finger-pointing disagreement, this poor soul’s

.                         words are like the finger painting of an intemperate infant.

Ignorant that the tone of his criticism is villainous,

This man of “higher significance”;

This accuser to whom no one compares,

His selectivity is a nuisance that

.                           descends like a blanket of ash

It covers everything in nothingness

Yet appears to be of substance,

Only to tar and feather the audience

Who’ve unknowingly fallen into his snare

.                                 “Follow friend, we’ll talk well, you’ll see”

But by “talk” he means ‘’the only words you’ll hear are from me”,

There isn’t room for the thoughtful, only the thoughtless;

The latter follow blindly

Comfortable conformers cashing in on hate’s current popularity.

The metaphorical divide,

.                    pushed into existence by political design

The enemy creates an enemy.

This accuser is at war, asserting his self-styled gnosis

He fights off resistance with slander, smear and profanity.

Yet, this arrogance which force feeds stagnating correctness,

can’t keep mouths paralyzed,

or hearts and minds chained to the worship of the idolized.

For with human hand

Opposite lampstand,

The writing’s on the wall.

‘And the King saw the hand as it wrote.’

– (Daniel 5:5, ESV)


Artwork: John Martin, 1854 ‘Belshazzer’s Feast’


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