Under a cold December moon
All pretenses at true science lie exposed.
Is true science dead?
Gaseous politicians
In fervid fever rise
To rattle our bones
And bury us in snow jobs
Of melting ice caps and Polar bears
With doctored photographs.
How dare you, sir,
Frighten children in pursuit of gain
And control of all our freedoms.
Despised creature,
But in your deception, truth.
Horsemen do ready stirrups.
The sun will scorch sinful man,
Darkness will follow.
Angel’s cry, “It is done!”
The Shepherd calls,
The hour of choosing has arrived.
And some are fools.
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