Looking at your most unpleasant smile, I
Cannot help but shudder, for you rile
My lot and take rudders away from me
So that I can no longer steer at sea.
Yet others look on your visage and say
That you are more like a King, at bay by
The rules and laws of democracy;
Such tools you would use, idiocy plies
Wisdom apart with such rude implements
That our minds shall be lost, live in crude tents!
Thus while others do fawn upon your lude
Behavior that is hidden in sweet words,
I turn away and run, my silent sword
Now begins to sunder advancing hoards.
Silent Wars, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
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