I have known some dogs.

Inevitably though, they

Eat death… roll in shit.

PROMPT: think about dogs you have known, seen, or heard about, and then use them as a springboard into wherever they take you.

Presbyterians, prudently invested
Their faith and their doctrine uncontested

Live for days of God-knows-what.

Ever predictably not offending
Maintaining stability, while sending

Children to the proper schools.

So far removed from Luther, Calvin, Knox
That Reformation grace holds up their socks.

They read Tim Keller’s books and aim to please
And sometimes even pray upon their knees,

Smiling blandly, heeding rules.

Presbyterians have milquetoast in the soul
Which keeps God’s passion under their control

While waiting for Lord-knows-what.

The muse induces glorious trance:
She beckons to the lyric dance.
Descending from the heights of data,
Latin love, persona grata,
She knows my madness, used to me
“Go write some verse” she coos to me,
An ever-patient Muse to me . . .

My woke and wild Parnassian queen
Now conjures a pathetic scene:
The nations murmur in despair—
Technocracy would strip them bare.
Dictating mandates from on high,
Foul globalists would justify
An anti-world of endless strife:
Data-driven shit that passes for life,
Intending to impose their rules
On us: their meek plebeian tools.
They stimulate a failing system,
See what cashless chaos gets them;
Nouveau-feudalism’s ranks
Fund every war and prop up banks . . .
They’ll launch the drones and dig the pits;
Force it on upon us until it fits,
Then plunder, as the system fails.
Angels fall. It’s in the details.