wordsmithlind

This was written about a party I had at my house a few years ago:

The devil was present and a vortex of hate formed.  The pig hosted, we attended.  The pig watched; the pig encouraged all that is wrong with man.

Individualism and narcissism were the themes.  The Battle of Gettysburg took place and the battle torn field was all that remained.  The heat rose and the pig pushed for more.

The backyard turned into the Lord of the Flies.  The Lord’s head was not on a stake but in a gas lamp in the front of the house.  The fire roared with the help of a weather worn couch.  The Sanctuary from Stupidity eventually was engulfed into the madness.  Fight after fight for pride, proof that the bigger man is the one who walks away.

All of it was nonsense.  I slept not.  I “woke” wondering what had happened.  Where had the madness come?  Why did it come here?

Seeing old friends again made for the most enjoyable sanctuary from all the madness.  Old friends, old faces, some that were never thought to be seen again.

The face the most that stood from the rest, held the heart at times before.  The hand that held the heart vanished.  The fallen organ pleaded to the mind to disavow existence.  Undue what is done.  Unsee what has been sawn.

Upon the return, the face awoke the heart.  The mind allowed it to pass in the foolish hopes of bringing about what never was.

The pig created this fake imagery.  The pig created this.  The pig will tempt and taunt the emotions of the weak.  The pig will present a maiden in attempt to control the wicked.  The pig waits to own the soul.  The pig took hold of all.  The pig ruled the mass.  The pig destroyed the group.  The pig created the individual.  The pig destroyed humility and created the ego.  The pig was the ruler.

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