Virgin Slayist Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Distinctive ring, idealistic hecklings,
the generations clash;
murmuring's trough, tepid public bath,
trepid ideologies rehash;
plebian consciousness nought,
socager, plied poor white trash;
counterpassant, egos marched,
palimpsest, life's memory cache.

Echolalia, scourge of the damned,
their number is soon called;
idiolect, revealed speech scrawled,
while in grave Tiresias bawled;
habdabs leash both young and old,
livings altogether sprawled;
coronach weeping's, entomb hope bled,
near future is bewailed.

Gratuitousness from mercy sliced,
earth's soul awash in blood;
raptly woven, introspect hymns,
self destruction earned agood;
weatherworn perceptual paragon,
to share an ominous brood;
cerement, defiant hypothecates,
self's worth, equated serfhood.

Implosively, life choices bleach,
one's death soul's decolourant;
vicarious natured sycophants,
ply war for profit anticipant;
conspiratorial, world state's minds,
each fissiparous aberrant;
consonancy aseep in deception,
touts draft, in voice altisonant.

Ideally each generation venerates,
in the bests of parental past;
social concepts, pledged birth to birth,
tomorrow gasps aghast;
values and current norms,
thirst to kill, chills each chiliast;
regenerate in minds an absolute,
change, or face a virgin slayist.