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
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Bluegrass Tavern Chronicles(Chapter 10)
Tommy Cecil Chapter 10 Joe Lawrence loved music, all...
-
The great oak stands magnificently alone in the meadow, far from the nexus forest. Seasons have passed for the secular oak as decades...
-
The Price of Exploration Race to the South Pole, Amundsen used s...
-
One morning cleaning up behind the bar there was a loaded sawed-off double-barrel shotgun propped up beside the cooler underneath the...
No comments:
Post a Comment