A Salute to the Wicked

To the arrogant and proud who walk with their noses pointed upward and cast a lowered eye at those around them. They are fools who have spoken as such in their own hearts and speak in languages of entitlements and expectations. Those same individuals which overpower those who do right by their own weight and haughtiness. Who always expect more and will struggle to offer little.

To contrarians of this world which pick and finagle, twisting and violating the truths of life we know. Who argue to hear themselves speak who punch the air with their fists and tongues while seeking a face exhibiting awareness. These petty bastards of reason and intellect are the blemishes on precious stones.

To the trouble maker who is like a scab picker never allowing a wound to heal.

To the them all and those like them I offer this salute, as I raise my hand high in the air, pointing upward with but one middle finger.

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