Monday 23 March 2020


by Nick Gisburne

If only we could see inside your mind
To trace the shameful lineage of lies
The martyr, truth, is slaughtered by the blind
And hurled at those who mourn for its demise
We long to find a doorway to your dreams
To look upon the chaos in its cage
To penetrate the slander of your schemes
And find the source, the root of all your rage
The sickness of your words infects us all
It spreads among the faithful and the free
An infinite, impenetrable wall
Inside it, what perversions would we see?
    What poisons fill the void behind your eyes?
    What feeds the fraud, the fantasy, the lies?