Song Against the Furtherance of Truth – A poem by Cypress Butane

The doors are in splinters

heavy hinges swing crying

There are wolves in the library

And they’re looking in hunger

Moonburned eyes flash joyous and insane

On a whisper of


A little knowledge is a dangerous thing

How delicious to righteously train

My violent hopeless rage upon a gentle thing

A baby gnaws lonely on a bloodsteak, all cornered

Teething on a form that once shared the name ‘mother’

I won’t censor the shame of collapse as I fall here

Watching a palace

 turned to a depression dispensary

Starving, out in the cold

The pages swirl in flame and tribulation

Sprayed in blood, written in need

If you took the time to place it

In historical context

This is a laughing slave spied on

This is a failure on conscience

If you’re fed up, but unsated

If your total war hurts you

If the scorched earth cracks a smile

Venting frustration that you skip in acid glee

Miss the point, between the lines,

The instrumentation so advanced and well trained it 

Can’t read

Violent exhalations

Desperate temperance


I’d beg a moment, to kneel with me here

In a bubble of trepidation

A shallow pause in a medically induced coma

To remember the surface

A smooth beaten sheen

Woven and incorruptibly innocent

Until some resolute monster 

Marks its face with 

a screed

3 thoughts on “Song Against the Furtherance of Truth – A poem by Cypress Butane

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