Carousel of Hate

CAROUSEL OF HATE

By Al Garcia-Wiltse

A world of promise and of hope,

on a carousel of hate.

Men and women in painted faces,

and tainted hearts that beat

to the music of the night,

and the rhythm of the shadows

that go bump in the night.

The world a maze of haze,

and of distorted reflections

in the smoke and mirrors

of minds that mask the brand,

the scent, the trace,

of the beast that lurks

beneath the poisoned dreams

that twist and turn, and twirl

before hallucinations consume and devour

the innocence of childish giggles of delight

on a merry-go-round

with brightly colored horses

and people with grossly painted faces,

and crazy polished eyes

that see though the haze and the darkness

that pulsates and throbs,

like a beast in the night –

on a whirling carousel of hate.

And the world keeps spinning.

The music keeps playing.

And the shadows of the night,

moving in the dark –

hiding from the light –

feeding on the rage,

the lust,

the greed –

that fuels the carousel of hate

called Earth.