A poem I wrote concerning the knee-jerk and mindless reactions we customarily receive from Calvinist sycophants who wander through the HETERODOXY HALL OF SHAME:
An “atonement” that doesn’t atone is “felicitously inconsistent,” they said.
They stand aghast at the iconoclast.
That infamous Heterodoxy Hall.
Shocked to their core they needn’t see more (echo of frantic footsteps fall).
Both fingers in their ears are embed.
Screaming “You can’t be sure they’re dead!”