What Would Seem

.
As the accusations come 
Kings, it has to be said, foresake kingdoms. .
 
Men crowned by glory feel in the blood
Hidden thorns. Some splintered raft 
 .
In the flood of a false dream of power 
Careening fast through disasters
 .
That leave the countries of self warped
And torn. In the abandoned palaces
 .
Men and those much less than men
Kiss the shadow. Obstructed light 
.
Becomes daggers as pillars conceal 
What goes on. Where the privileged once
 .
Reclined, there is now rebellion from
The cellar. It is storming the gates 
 .
And blood spilling. It is warping the end 
Of each song. Sex is presidential perhaps 
 .
Making every victim fresh subject 
To those weighed and wasted 
 .
By an unwavering need to belong. 
.
No man is king. 
 .
Their reign can last but a moment. 
Some indulge just to taste it;
.
A sense of royalty constructed 
By a form of descent and dead tongue. 
 .
.
.
 
David Erdos 2/11/17
Illustration: Claire Palmer
..
.
This entry was posted on in homepage. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.