too much blood in him

those tongues torturing truths

ever seek the serpentine

eavesdropping ears

to propagate and to enfoul

***

eager seekers of dominion

search out a collar

with which to bind him

and enslave

***

abroad

they doth now look

***

to find a lever to apply

when shall the three, we three

meet again

and exert

***

and in their febrile cauldron

ingredients they mix

to alchemize a plan

most highly justified

***

oh, the imagined cunning

that precocious understanding

strange deeds afoot

nearly there

***

milord the case

it is clear

the asylum seeker shall

a straight-jacket be granted

***

lock him away

exile him

be rid

ne’er to darken doors again

***

we milord

are august

and totally right

and thoroughly justified.

***

and the seer sighed

for naught have they learned

IQ high

wisdom low

***

same shit

different day