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