Clowns can get them young,
a silly nose and feet, becomes the pied piper
leading the march toward the crawl space
filled with spiders and dust and young
silent faces.

Clergy can absolve sin with a simple undone buckle
a glass of holy spirits and the weak are prayed upon --
youthful prey, their alter boy looks bringing
a foul breath heaving the gospel as a guillotine -- the cross dangles
above a hairless chest as psalms are grunted in broken Latin.

Beware the Boy Scout leader, his attraction goes beyond
the ice cream stick raft as the uniform shows hairless legs
while getting several merit badges inside the dark tents,
erected but empty when the sun rises and the promise
of quiet fills empty canteens with the sauce of demons.

Watch that bearded poet, Howling as he removes the pants
and cups the halves before penetrating with forced rhyme, eyes lifted
and pure white when declared head beat of the beats with young meat
tucked into pages earmarked ‘enter here’, a journal of misguided
fornication demanding law release the youth into his den
of debauchery.

They remain, those duct taped twisted mouths
over horror filled last breath, the broken bones
chiseled from vengeance, all foreheads carved X
in solidarity, Charlie Christ the savior, Manson mansion
of wood and mud and still, who could have killed
Jon Benet Ramsey, stole Etan Patz at the bus stop.

Is it so easy to persuade the masses to drink
the Kool aid -- is the world filled with dark shadows
while innocence smells sweet Roses?

No prayer, belief in the gods of choice, will end
man’s evil.

Edward Rochester Esq