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



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