The Drooling Beast

When Altruism sharpened his claws
And looked at the boy who sang,
He grinned as he thought of the church-bell
That slowly and deeply rang.

The boy would be going to church, yes!—
His parents were selfless tools—
Where he’d learn to feel guilty for joy, yes!
And sing in the choir of fools.

He would learn to go singing for others,
And just for himself sing no more.
For the good of the self lives in brothers,
And the needy, who need, and the poor.

Of pity he’d sing, and of sorrow,
And never of love or delight
Till, on some old, gray, lone tomorrow,
He’d kneel without joy in the night.

And Altruism’s eyes, they were gleaming,
And a madness filled up his mind,
And his ears and his nostrils were drooling
With the thought that men though him kind.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s