...And I Will Not Be Corrupted

Point my poles.

Propel me more than partly.

I’m practically plainly planted in a place

that is particularly purposeful.

Can I, can I not be complacent

(and I know I complain)

Corruption is hard to compute and equally harder constrained

in this crime-calamity-drug-disease-defected decline of civilization.

From decadence destined and demise devised

I defend myself from demons daily.

Fight for fitfulness and for my faith.

Flakes flitter down, fallout from our often-failed fighting,

flecks of filth and fear

something I will not follow.

And I align myself, the alien, for an answer always sought

From an ailment that can be alleviated and bring ascension to all…

…And I will not be corrupted

my mind moans within.

Meaninglessness must not be my master nor my kin

But magnified and martyred, its malice intent interested in only the inconceivable

(at least to me) the inevitable and infinitesimal in presence of Immensity.

That Inventor that rendered me resistant and resilient

to the real corruption

that had no right to enter

though it is written.

I rally remembrances of observations made over outbreaks, outwardly occurrences, revivals and reforms.

I toil over this wealth like its oil.

Oh, I have hidden history hole heartily hurriedly inherited and hangin’ it high.

Highlighted and hijacked, how can I hide though I am naked?

A stanch spirit spirals sporadically inside my cells, my essence

…and I will not be corrupted.

Sin may sway me, shift me, but I stand at Sinai.

Sing a song of silence, some sound often sung by those inside undead and undying, defiers and deniers of false deities, destined to dine with Divinity

They’re deemed worthy, though delinquent, the faithful indentured.

I live a life lousy though I am, Life and loss, laugh and love I will not always loftily land, eroded and laundered daily.

Elation linked to longevity lavished upon me

…and I will not be corrupted.