Last Laugh
Last Laugh
© Ben Burton
Petrified slaves
Worshiping stars
Nobles and knaves
Uncaged in the dark
Gallantly fought
Gamely defended
Quietly wrought
Uproaringly rendered
Hearken to clues
Enriddled in rhyme
Ladled from pews
Instinctively mimed
Fault the accursed
Who spun the foul thread
When empty the purse
Faith's soothsayers fled
Displaying naught
But vanities vows
Savoring thoughts
Of eternal nows
Proclaim not the name
Blaspheming of God
Nothing has changed
Save the fields that are trod
Henceforth to spill
An acre of seed
Girding a will
That nothing impedes
For silence or din
Within lion's lair
No tool born of tin
Could stave life's despair
Words to the wise
The signs yet profess
The worst of all times
Is as good as it gets
Toast to the sun
The one that is true
Birthing the Nun
And dictator, too
Beliefs in disguise
Lies polished with skill
The innocents' eyes
Embrace daffodils
A senseless refrain
To sort wheat from chaff
While omniscient brain
Has the last laugh
Vying to rock
The cradle to sleep
While some in his flock
Keep shearing the sheep
From fishes with lungs
In steady degree
Bi-pedals have sprung
The last tragedy
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