h1

-the king and i-

April 23, 2012

                                                                                             4/23/12

you sit, perched high

in your lofty tower,

passing judgement

from your gold-armed

chair of red-

surrounded by your books-

you and your companions

converse using words

too large for your

small minds-

attempting to fill the holes

narcotics, LSD and THC

couldn’t-

with your selfish, pedantic

whorish ways, it’s

little wonder

Cupid

dares not touch

you with a

ten foot arrow-

your talk is big behind closed doors,

as though you know of hardship-

living in fantasy and conspiracy does

not a hardship make-

you rape and you pillage,

leaving only husks of those who might

have called you “friend”

in your wake,

sparing nobody your wolf in sheep’s

clothing facade-

each of us  a unique purpose in your

so-called tortured life,

calling upon them only when you see fit,

expecting compliance,

never reciprocating-

does that make you feel a king, up there in

your Ivory Tower?

condescending to the “common folk”?

enjoy your reign, your Majesty.

one by one, your subjects will deny you.

they will defy you.

leaving you only with your

false pretentious comrades to keep

you warm.

                                                                                                                  -freya-

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4 comments

  1. This was a great read. The emotion in this is very powerful, and I think it touches something from somewhere deep. Marvelous!


    • thank you!!! just wondering, how did you come about my humble blog?


      • In the tags, under “poetry” – glad I was able to stumble upon it some randomly 🙂


      • me too! completely awesome… i had only JUST finished posting it, haha! i look forward to more feedback from you in the future! 🙂



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