I hate bar flies

I hate bar flies

What good are they

Apart from a link

In the food chain

The natural order

The circle of life

However, a bit like wasps

I ask why.

Then again

I know that some people

In truth,

Most of these guys

In this dive,

Ugly ducklings

Misled miscreants

With beaks in the trough

Sucking up the dregs

As if their life depended on it,

(It probably does)

Flying high on low self-esteem

Moulded by bigots

Into haters and bully boys,

Have used the word leper as an insult.

For millennia lepers were segregated

Isolated and denigrated

Imprisoned

Their mere presence anathema

To the able-bodied

With the black hearts

And narrow minds.

I like to believe

I would have been better

Than all the rest

Painting myself with a different brush

Is almost second nature,

Nobody thinks of themselves

As evil

Perhaps the Devil

Thinks he gets bad press.

But years ago

A leper colony

Off the coast of Crete

Clouded with billowing beauty

As Butterflies danced

Landing on heads and hands

The grace of the place

An island idyll

Peacefully serene.

A bastion of hope

Against Adolf and the war

A haven of peace

And tranquillity.

I could feel its healing

Bathe in its warmth

Its gentle breathing.

Even now surrounded by dog filth

And drunkards

Spilling their guts out

On the street

Swearing allegiance to the devil

For a paragraph on social media

The lies they tell

The lives they live

Down among the dead men

Sweeping the gutter

For the promise of a brickbat or two,

I wonder if Spinalonga

Is the best place in the world

For me to be.

Free from hate

And the machinations

Of the body politic

The stink of envy

The breakdown of community

Spirit and purpose.

Isolated island perfection

Or bolt hole for the coward

Who knows

Who cares.