Rebuke

By Cliff Lake

 

Rebuke

 

Not a day gone,

Nor yet in the grave,

The murdered lie cold,

Yet your words run colder

And thus

Your cruelty is assured.

Your shame spills over,

Though you hold none of your own.

Short-timer, there is much you could yet do,

Besides mourning strictly over you.

How brazen your lip service!

You mourn your own renown,

And place the blame

Squarely where it must lie:

With the victim,

With the victim.

What derangement grips you?

Too often do you name yourself –

Ever you claim fevered oppression

Even as the invective flies from your lips,

And the orders are made against those

Who scry your sin.

How many more can you repulse

Before you stand alone?

Your pursuit of isolation is too evident,

May you be granted your boon,

And be the victim,

Be the victim.

The lies no longer cover

 Your expanding ass,

The deflections you cast

No longer obscure a revealing past.

Teflon wears when scraped often,

And you have tried vigorously to scrub.

You have left your marks.

You have bled this nation,

And been bled in return…

Your favors soon run dry,

And the props beneath you crumble.

Those you rub shoulders with

Will rid themselves

Of the accompanying stench,

And in public memo

Will side with your victims

With the victims.

Today you undercut yourself –

The bloodletting begins…

 

Cliff Lake 12/15/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: 1100 S Ocean Blvd, Palm Beach, FL 33480, USA

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