Cultish Behavior

To hide a secret, keep it in plain sight.
Inside a truth is where you hide a lie.
A deed de noir, if bathed in brightest light,
Leaves the palest of shadows few will spy.

An untruth, whispered, will seldom go far,
But if shouted often, becomes a fact.
An average schmuck can become a star,
If you make grand claims, then lie and distract.

Find something that folks are afraid to lose;
Claim the government's taking it away.
Tell them it is critical that they choose
To follow your schmuck, who will save the day.

A few will follow because they're afraid.
A few will follow because they are mad.
Anger and hatred and words loudly said,
Will give them direction they've never had.

But a schmuck is a schmuck, the truth will out,
And an angry mob may be the result.
Frustrated fanatics who scream and shout,
Are the fractured remains of a failed cult.

Though you scatter the fire, some embers glow,
Some remnants burn out, and others anneal.
Some embers are large, so their fire can grow,
But most are shattered, needing time to heal.

But mark my words -- This is wisdom, hard earned:
If you are not careful, you can get burned.

Mick McKellar
January 2021

Building a cult can be relatively easy if you follow a few simple rules and your timing is good. However, if your leader is a schmuck, incompetent, or just unlucky; a failed cult can be a dangerous thing.

Mick

The Cost of Conflict

Shallow cries of war and vengeance
Echo and wail, through canyons
Of glass, stone, and steel.
Gaslight tales and smoke,
Obscure and obfuscate
The weathered and withered eyes
Of angry old men.

Will the threshing floor chafe,
When the sledge elects the grain
And rejects the chaff?
Will the chaff arise and
Falsely claim it is grain?
Shall the harvest make war upon itself
In resentment, in grief, and in rage?

Life will suffer.
Grain will be spoilt.
And the wounded will reign,
While the children mourn
For their dead fathers.

Mick McKellar
January 2021
 

In the Bones of My Soul

When bright bursts of love enkindle my mind,
And my hesitant bonds have lost control,
My essence subsumes ev'ry thought I find;
I feel the fire in the bones of my soul.
When chill winds of freedom caress my heart,
And warm bonds of friendship my cries extol,
My bonds to my shadows are burst apart;
I savor joy in the bones of my soul.
When the quiet hours of a sleepless night
And slumber elude, minutes take their toll.
When sweet visions of fancy take their flight,
Gratitude gleams in the bones of my soul.
The architecture of my love is whole,
When I feel loved in the bones of my soul.

Mick McKellar
January 2021

It is good to feel loved deep in the fiber of your being.

Mick