Wilt bloomed rose of regal thorn-tree
August Tory, pugilistic “Kane”, Ascends so sovereign heights
To absolute control and fame
None so coarse and so duplicitous Rationed, allocated words of corporate, chiefs of commerce, traditionalists, unregulated, platinum financed “Baron” crude slaves
Which fortunes drive fed cattle? Rusted sanded oil runs?
Cut of suit and twist of silken tie are yours commander
And call upon your garrisoned women, and unyielding blinded young and patriotic men of faith and God and gruesome war!
Desert Deacons, triumph on their black steel chariots in solemn times of death, and so consented madness and rapport
At your beckon, from the heights, your fathers trembling blood, old and feeble
Avenged through fire and scenes well staged by chiefdom’s regimented concierge
Imperial creed, isolationist masses of the partisan fields of material clover follow with admiration
Thinking not and not so near demise But reaping shallows of life and none so fertile fields, as raping whores, and lands of class
And not so open sided thoughts of conscience world
Follow not, without so questioning the one hundred millionth angels court from atop their golden thrones
Nothing seems so true , as to take all words as truths
And whisper in the ears of gossip, chattered lore
And fathom each and every truth
So help your children’s commune of aloof tormented souls.