The enemy I see moves slow,
their hands soft against their spine,
their smile folded into a crease,
as if carved from sweet wax.
They speak of virtue with honeyed breath,
their arguments polished, spit-shined, firm.
Their eyes a crystal calm, a pond,
reflecting doubt back into my skin.
The cloak they wear fits perfectly snug—
a tailored armor of righteousness sewn.
Its threads whisper in the breeze,
a fabric woven from straightened lies.
I watch them gather the room, feast
on trust, licking the marrow clean.
Their decency hums its quiet hymn,
a hymn that silences every scream.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: July 31st, 2025 12:06
- Comment from author about the poem: Inspired by Bob Dylan
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Doggerel Dave
Offline)
Comments2
This poem has metaphor, symbolism and flow that makes it tell its story in disguise. Lovely
The descriptor/aphorism or whatever 'Manners maketh the man' could only be attached to no one I wish to be anywhere near.
Well writ, Sir.
Thanks for sharing your feedback Dave
Cheers. Could you let me know if a particular Dylan song was the motivation?
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