Off The Grid Mon Ami(e)

Exiled contemplative, free thinker, scholar self-seclusion,

Removed, society set placemat, detached frame follower.

Free-flow spirit, allowed to wander lust uninhibited inclusion,

Freedom hideaway, amidst Roman 13 Conservancy hollowware.

Caesar Conservative, Roman 13 Republic, arisen autocratic rulers.

Trust US, for we are tyrannical tyrants, who claim perfect impotence.

Excuse me, importance  being in their mind’s domain, impunity tenses.

Thirteen or less, who rule - Fake News Supreme - as deceitful duelers.

Seams History again, goes askew politics, moving Right into war-frames.

Prissy political world, Macho Mankind barren; warmonger wilderness wasteland.

Make haste thy artistic retreat onto a bubbling peaceful water wonderland.

Tranquil recluse hideaway; insanities avoidance of historical  reoccurring shame.  

Off the grid asylum, composed composition, bares creative composure tranquility,

Bearing rippled composition in caressed quill writing, weaving cerebral characters.

Dew dusk dye mind’s pastels, alight dwindling twilight, amidst evening hues ability,

Do hear nightingales twill, amid sunset meadow lark fields, adrift harmonic reactors.

In tune - life’s tuning fork, shares soul’s enlightened fertile enunciated empowerment.

Seed self-worth, amid thy Poet’s, “P” string coronation in vibrant - precise pronunciation.

Dig dye drenching, trenching wordage from thy bowel’s vowels consonant enunciation.

Forthwith thy hearth, shall henceforth, write thy lands heartbeat - natural entitlement.

You see here Roman 13 does not command-death, nor command-demands confinement.

Caesar shall never rule Art, nor capitulate thinkers, shall make strong - become weaklings.

Wear Ass, those Butt’s of Society say, “But I am invincible Emperor,” lacking cloth refinement.

Wherein Factual Truth is transcribed as Fake, to decimate civilization foundations as greeklings.

Fraternal Orders of Deception, pry upon - Civilian Constitutions, to build empire totalitarians.

Free Verse will always be feared for Poets are word warriors, using pointed verbal terse swords.

Poets as David, stand up; as Ben Franklin they defend Democracy in electrostatic battle chords.

This nation is not made up from Roman 13 Conservative Christianity Political Party barbarians.

Contraire mon ami(e), “We the People,” bear crème de la crème civilian governance, who WILL prevail.

Not One, nor Thirteen can override one branch, over the other two branches of governmental parity.

We are not Autocracy, who trump us amongst towers of power, who manipulate, over Mass plurality.

Contraire mon ami(e), “We the People,” bare birthrights of inherited heritage, amid family fought reveille.

(ami masculine - amie femine)