Old demons never die, they simply dim their flames
And decompose through all the crime scene stages
Righteous hatred stiffening in the rigor of history
Prodded and examined, Questioned and challenged,
The images of fire debated and heat’s meaning discussed.
Then decomposition sets in and infernal foulness
Mulches down in parody and meme’s rich loam
And makes of slicing stamping real, a simple word
A name to slander any, every, thing disliked,
Dust, then, to dust in sleeping eyes and demons wake
Unnoticed and unjust they change their name and sing
The same old songs, bright torchlit rallies seen anew
Men in rows, coloured spectacles where e-books burn
And the old fire kindles and liberty turns to face
The dawn with open, readied, leveled arms.