Boding ill

A burning perverse desire

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all-consuming

inextinguishable

rages, ruling over reason

and good sense,

no obstacles to deter,

no opposition brooking,

the will overriding some wrong

to right, measures taken

out of proportion,

the deranged railings,

the truth-contorting antics

all there in the armoury

of machinations,

as vehicular vultures

dispense deaths from the skies,

the march of Armageddon

recklessly relentless,

all velvet gloves off,

only fists of iron on crude display;

there is an overweening wish

to reclaim the past,

tyranny itinerant

seemingly unstoppable,

history’s lessons irrelevant;

amidst colours of hellish conflagration

cries of anguish

are not reaching the ears

of the merchants of doom

with the panoply of terrors

in their sullied hands.

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