The Great and The Governed

Dreaming a demos, The Founding Fathers laundered out

Their Worships on a Line of Truth in hope, now puppet-show;

A conceptual Escape from Alcatraz by leave of Crazy Horse;

And the sheen of silver sidewalks soiled, abraded off

 

Steer here, or nearly hereabouts, coerce there peradventure;

And worse, envisaged freedom bombs; a crude attack dead-centre

Upon resolve;

Has-been intended sanctury, and open range to choose from,

A paradise to win one’s spurs:- heads-up!, you always lose some!

 

This place of home-made apple pie, ah, ‘Home, home, on the range

Where the tear and the lycanthrope prey…..tra la.…’

 

Here are marauder Mensche pressing forth, stradling the action

Clubbed fists, tight-white, and antimony stood, their faction

Calling the tune, the tenor, scheming computations

Astute, inflamed, pursuant to their harvest haul colations

 

A rout then, where egos dare to slip their hallowed constitution

Bald-evil-like, misnomer shares to vend, to a trepidation

Of kindliness; a clothed and clever flagrant obfuscation

Feathers their nests

 

Distance extrapolates; common, regular guys on streets

Concieve no inking of voracious trampling feet

On hungryneck depredations following upon their lowly beat;

Consider they comic books where monsters make belief

 

Then outrage upstarts, like Apolyon’s fiery eyes engage

Appearing across the paper page, or laid back TV phrase,

Conception whether to believe such understanding stews

Alas, all’s Greek

 

To ordinary Joe and common Gillian

The enormities of fiction are their only beefy bouillon

Nor happens in their day and age contemptible deceptions

Like history

 

No, no such things at home in our beloved Federal Union

Uncomfortable and scary things like Illium’s topless towers

Into a refuse bin go labelled Tidy Truth Away

Or on a freight train headed out for another race and day

 

But rears another world dissevered from the homestead hoi polloi

Where estimated people leisure, lounge, and creepycrawl

Bleeding the bottom-feeders, seeding super-grievous calls,

Wearing the Stars and Stripes out from behind their curtain wall

 

Choice is no choice from such to figure forth fair leaders

Weevils in ostentatious houses built with fragrant scented cedars

Understand well enough the tab is large when ate at Caesar’s

The whole house tumbles, shatters, to ovations from crowd-pleasers

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You can also find this poem at steemit: https://steemit.com/poetry/@matthew.raymer/the-great-and-the-governed

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