Make heavy chains

First they pretend there is no Beast at all
that learning from a list will stop your fall
into a den of thieves and vagabonds
who skipped the classes teaching rights from wrongs.

Then priests profess The Beast will lead astray
those too weak to resist its call to play
with horn of sin that sounds above the lord’s
infecting the pure thoughts of praying hordes.

History’s next to claim to know The Beast
a creature drawn to drink warm blood and feast
when gangs of men in white fleece uniforms
are sprayed with stripes then led to kill in swarms.

Let’s not forget the scientists of race 
whose only source of wisdom is the face
who see the brooding Beast beneath strange skin
that doesn’t match the mirror they look in.

But these portrayals of The Beast are lies
attempts to blame the rot upon the flies
attempts to blame the wound upon the blade
ignoring how the knife and thrust are made.

The truth’s The Beast’s inside us from day one
and prowls until our final pulse has gone.
Try to evict or kill and it remains.
Restraint’s your only hope. Make heavy chains.

(Taken from my free poetry ebook ‘Up the Old Road‘.)