Dec 17, 2007 10:38
With rising sun, in brightest day,
"I make up rules", said king, to sun.
"and now, the rumpus has begun!"
So as sun boil'd in clear cold air,
the king and sundry without cares,
danced and dreamed and stood so tall,
with pride that goes before a fall.
His court was jolly, they made it so,
the shade of wall, it drenched the snow,
in blackest shadow, where, entombed,
the guts of those that last cared loomed,
entwined betwixt the maiden black,
and life, blood red, spilled from the crack,
but in the shadow, nothing real,
could stop the party-goers zeal.
beyond the wall and ramparts grim,
the peasants cursed his court and him.
Their lot was not so bright as his
the sun shone down on all of this,
and rains they fell in stormy sheets,
the bell of thunder peal'd through streets,
the biting gale, its teeth that gnash,
the young the old, and in a flash
the kingdom sank beneath the waves,
the king, he sang, "No one can save us!"
No hero stood before the tide,
to save the unjust serpents bride,
No one to whom the king relied,
No one whose lot was do or die,
No justice gushed red 'pon the snows,
lamenting headstones all in rows,
It all just washed away...