Ode to a bigot

This is how alchemy works.

The merest thought of you

whips me into a frenzy

and gives me the energy

to do the things

that I should do out of love

but don’t.

For my laziness I am ashamed to say

holds far greater sway

than my love.

I look at your ugly face

Not the face you were born with

But the face you made.

I look at your ugly face

and want to help rescue kittens.

I hear your hateful voice

Not your voice

But the things you voice

and I want to help rescue

refugees thousands of miles away

whose plight

is a direct result

of the hatred you manifest.

The poison you spew

opens up my clogged arteries

and flushes out accumulations

of years of gluttony.

Your diatribes

are like ice cold water

on my sleepy face

waking me up

from my drunken slumber.

Humanity

could very well be

an experiment gone horribly wrong

if it lets bigots like you

hold so much power

and attract

hordes of angry followers.

But I am

putting on my apron

stained and full of

acid holes of my own mistakes

even as all my demons

tug at my feet and try and stop me.

But I am putting on my apron

and mixing

what little love and compassion I can rummage

and pouring it

into the cesspool

that you are creating.