Evidence is merely a hindrance to alternate realities offered as facts,
an obstacle to be overcome in search of support for bias and lies
and ill-will in the name of power.

Evidence gets in the way of highly developed incompetence,
the sort of polished ineptitude presented with fanfare at
the blowing of trumpets for a psychotic monarch.

Evidence is an inconvenience, a beacon of unwelcome light, an ugly
illumination of jaundiced ideas cultivated under the approving
gazes of mentally anesthetized but willing slaves.

Evidence is meaningless in a rancid kitchen where the rotting
corpses of heroes are eaten in defiant acts of bigotry
disguised as rabid patriotism.

Evidence skirmishes against fallacy, falling victim to gas-lighting;
the obedient subjects agree: evidence deserves to be relegated to the
dark, dingy corners where truth goes to wither and die.

Evidence, unwilling to succumb to tampering, struggles to take another
breath and make another effort to reveal the lies; will evidence expose a final
opportunity for an insurrection of righteousness to prevail?

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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