I behold the iron—
gleaming, unbent in the sunlight;
yet within, a slow fire eats its marrow.
Rust spreads like a secret plague,
and once it begins,
no hand of man can cleanse it whole.
The tale of the kingmaker whispered it to me,
the theatre of selfish rulers carved it on my mind.
I saw thieves in holy garments,
anointed in greed,
investing their crimes like merchants of sorrow.
Their hunger is endless,
their ruthlessness a sharpened blade.
Heroism is not a sin,
yet the battlefield is never safe.
Who shall raise a shield for me?
Who shall lend me a voice?
If I perish, tomorrow wears no mourning cloth.
If my name survives, it is miracle;
if forgotten, I become a nameless ghost—
a son of dust,
sailing the one-way river of the dead,
longing to greet the countless shadows
who fell as I have fallen.
Justice walks with trembling feet;
its seekers sleep with daggers at their throats.
For the heads that once taught us virtue
now feast at the banquet of decay.
They crown their tables with corruption,
they threaten the tongues of truth,
and with fear’s black whip
they make Justice herself
a prisoner in chains.
Selfishness is an eternity alone
in the maze of paths and realm of shadows'
gloom.
Where pride crowns the self and mocks without.
knowing the true, value.
That to be a servant is truly to be a King.
Trade your stocks and shackle of pride
for your stock in humanity.
Be then esteemed as sheckle,
gold to others, indeed.
BAT planted many seeds that brought him a great harvest
For which many held his ideology with august interest
With claims that Jagaban dealt with those political jagabats
Who knows little or nothing about keeping political stats
Since kingmakers hate to bow to their kings' orders
For which their branded deviants got their cold shoulders
BAT feels he should have a fair share of that opportunity
But like Eden's taste of apple, he soiled his official dignity
His celerity daily imposes punitive damages on his party
His ambition is heading towards punition and thus unhearty
BAT that should be adjectivised as the best or foremost kingmaker
Makes himself runs around like an unhearty shaker
What should be done by those hearty as bucks
Is vied by a kind that makes Aso Rock looks like a centre of bullocks
The swishing of the broom that has been sweeping
Echoes the voice of another that won't promote good thinking
No Crown for who is A Clown,
His Kingmaker automatically A Clown:
The Clown who receives one
Has a rarity won
To urgently tell us what he’s done:
What fastens Governance on Fun
Or our faces shall don a frown …
No Natural nor Self-Made Clown
Should near a Gold Crown
Nor its harmonic Kingly Gown,
Be he White Clown, Black or Brown …
I shall like a bad swimmer drown,
If Crowns begin to uplift The Clown;
Flyer who could a plane down.
Storm I shall a noiseless town:
A green leaf changed to brown.
Hoary oak.
Winter crowns all
who bows.
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