Paul sees nothing as it once was.
He imposes himself as he deems fit.
Whether the fit is a good one or not.
Whether it is his business or not.
This invasion succeeds like weeds.
Root twined. Sun stealing.
It keeps mistaking making the best
of a bad situation as joy.
No matter how much Paul
takes away from the seizure
of other people’s life liberty
and pursuit of happiness
he still feels he is owed
he has not yet located it
among the captured inventory.
Where is the bounty of the Promised Land
now that it is delivered,
to the marauding faithful?
Oh, how a malignant God
to destroy vast swaths
and declaring it Winged Victory
with a host of internet angels
riding herd on their frustrations
and lazy gullibility.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney