by Shaun Terry
Pharisees live sparely, the wishing between the seams.
Carefully, you bury your living beneath your dreams.
Apathy you feed the crowd, and educate; with ease, predict.
Guilty – conceived and bound – a destiny to convict.
Rules you write: gifts to you, for lemmings beneath the sun.
You provide, with open palms and a prickly grin, behind a gun.
Save me, Leviathan.