Vestiges

At table

11 At table Father cut a piece of cheese and all sniffed it Knowing not where to put those noses that sniffed it It was evidence he is bloating fart on milk That crafts his body smooth, soft and shiny like silk. Before then, the cake all hungrily hoped appeared, He pushed down into his belly with no crumbs spared For the tiny lads whose dreams were to pick them up And fertilize their slim skinny hopes to grow up Around which table the cult expects them to crawl For such within are sights that kiss bliss and enthrall Leaving this jerk a smirk of a sneak from a brothel; So, quest not which for none would be the one to tell. He’s espoused a hussy with whom he feeds all thin And leaves just no flesh to their barebones but the skin Whose lofty images colour screens and hound favour That project so much holdup in their endeavour For they are panhandling lepers with nothing more Not even blood in their veins that would bless the gore To appease the ghouls of his brothel; no! Palace Queen bringing all abjection! And to him solace…. Long shall they at this table dine shielded by vice Knowing not they, not the people, will pay the price For forfeiture lousily indulged in, in life Letting the demon himself take them for a drive. 12 They enjoy maiming the world with total misery Which when asked to redress, they view as foolery And would requesters their lives surrender to them For not all must be those to sit and steer the helm. Sleazy helm claimants need not; but a better stead Which must be sought after without receiving death That’s the lot today and come shall come that day When the tides will turn and all shall receive their pay. And in their graves frost bites they’ll receive and not rice On which alive they fed fat ignoring our cries Of the pangs hunger dealing blows to our stomachs While theirs and their queens’ needed not an almanac. ...