Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Reliquary



The feign Camelot strides his golden calf
his thralldom spread like plagues of death;
toothless and mindless his servants for whom
trawl in their viridity,
spellbound in perfidious naivety
they gather gold to glut their king,
imbecilic to their own tribunal demise;
where idiots rush in kings send in a knight-errant
to pillage from those less fortunate
and call it Democracy. 

- John Hardesty  

No comments:

Post a Comment

To An Outlying Friend

  Oh, the circling vultures refuse to gnaw out my heart Though the crows mock me as supreme squires with  their judicial caws I've stumb...