Ph: Evil: The Troll Poem by Brian Johnston

‘An interesting guy I think, '
People might say on meeting you for the first time,
Oh yes, I've come to know you too well.
Thank God for the Internet,
Although there are bodies in your wake,
And stench follows you like a garbage scow
There is protection for many in distance from,
In the miles of wire, the waves of wireless
Communication, and so like a deer
Caught in the headlight of your amazing ego,
[Fashioned by the fires of Hell (like Gollum's ring)
And as empty as the devil's soul],
They stand frozen for a moment,
Throwing it off finally, the vision of their own death
Shaking their heads in wonder, ‘What just happened? '

It's like the first lesson your mother tries to teach,
‘Be careful who you choose as a friend, '
A cautionary tale for adults too.
‘Fire does burn' even when you reach adulthood,
All that sparkles is not gold, my friend,
And a ‘nom de plume' like Talvia Sprinkles,
Just one more bush the troll hides in.
Sometimes that strange feeling that you have
Is actually another human? being? peeing on your soul
The golden shower they offer, however,
Does not assuage your guilt (which is real, so what?)
You've just been sold a bill of goods,
Dr. Killdeers Magic Elixir, a not so benign fixer.

If you have been in this dark place of the soul
And saved by Satan not in fact being God,
Then rejoice my friend in God's provision
In youth or childhood, you did something good?
Do more, bear witness of your weakness to others,
Not to mortify your own flesh (God knows you're sorry)
But so that those with ears to hear (also God's gift)
Perchance will themselves not feel so alone.
Remember that half-truths strung together like pearls
Are still sh**, if you'll pardon the expression.
‘If it sounds to good to be true it isn't, '
Remember only God knows your soul,
Satan is just a very experienced guesser.
His wisdom does not serve the greater good.
Do not look for truth among the cold stones
Of the temple that once stood at Delphi either,
Or trust any oracle that does not bend his knee
To the living God, the creator of us all.
It is your life, it is your responsibility,
Don't parrot Cesar's surprised last words
As a ‘friend' slipped his knife into Cesar's heart,
‘Et tu, Brute? ' You have been warned!