What idiots we are, thinking a hard
day’s work will suffice; the hurt that
is measured in years, unconsciously digs
deeper with every sunrise. “I taught these
guys everything they know.” A voluntary
brain drain, tapped to exhaustion, each
one passing out to a brighter world, only
soon to forget. Basic humanity being squeezed
out, thus giving room only to their unmoralistic
company charter!
These non-productive morons, that holds all
power, hardly able to keep a straight face,
when insincerely apologizing for distributing
that dreaded piece of white paper!
© Harry J Horsman 1989
Pick up the pieces, the remnants of
your folly, you few who shuffle the
decks of life. So few to guide ones
destiny, giving quality or lack of,
to your indigenous subjects.
Contesting paladins that manipulate
every move, each infinitesimal pawn
representing a million fold, facing
extinction from each perpetrating
venomous queen, masquerading in her
veil of respectability, whilst
threatening in all directions, just
seeking to intimidate before
striking the ultimate blow for her
player. A stalemate situation
giving both sides honour without
loss, but whom gives a through to
the mother’s, are not her losses the
nations also, are not her tears
programmed, her emotions computerized
into your warring brain?
Who! Are these unmoralistic
puppeteers, those ignominious players
of the ultimate game, those that
stand behind courteous expressions
of decency, love and respect?
“The kings of this game,” Them to be
written into the annals of life,
giving intent of emulation to
future disciples. “History has no
past, no future, just a recurring
theme, only the names change”
© Harry J Horsman 1990
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.