Wherefore

wherefore Roman are thou?

slinking in self-pity whereas wealth surrounds you like a Magic Mountain,

crying what?

crying pity,

pity does mend with servile hands and the valkyries do not care...

 

you are a fool to war against me,

sometimes I am more demian than demian,

thou are noble

of noble birth

a salad of racial genes

coasting off the seas of Arabia?

 

i would don upon myself

the cup of glory

if i were not you for i would call them heathen

luxurious resting in the pleasures of the tyrantess

neglecting movies

like a fool

trusting reputation

and resputans of fortune

to tread your stars

for a mere celebrity,

a contradiction in terms

liberal only in seduction

but rewriting one's past and ancestry

like the ancient Korean nobles.

 

once, you were someone to be reckoned with

a shakespearean muse butterflying through the forest

and stealing the custard songs of the nightingale

eating the ambrosia of the Gods

which hopefully

was not human flesh.

 

create the alliances in England,

leave the life of luxury, pain and lust

that the French turn into utra-sheek vogue,

strike dumb those who live mindless lives

and would entrust their debt to Solazzo...

 

they come here and there,

trusting circular logic

and witchery,

bet in thousands or more

in the stock market, pull out or pull in

through linkage

ruin corporations through espionage

buy corporations and destroy them

to feed their relentless grievance.

 

if thou art noble and half the woman I once knew,

look with your eyes upon the world

and cast thy judgements like your own eyes

not with the desire to be popular, artistic, or even shocking.