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Anais Vionet May 2023
I watched King Charles’ coronation this morning.
I’m not British and some things confused me.
For instance, they kept saying “The new king.”
New? The guy’s a boomer - at least - right?

Apparently, he is, at once, the oldest king
ever and the newest king yet.

Can we talk about the old lady with the crown?
The wrinkled one on the right of him, in white,
the crypt keeper, with genuine platinum hair.
At first, I thought that it was Charles’ mother.

But apparently, the old Queen died.
Has anyone looked into that?
Anyone who’s read Shakespeare knows
how brutal royals can be and successions,
over time, have earned a sketchy reputation.

Anyway, I wish him well. I wouldn’t want to live a life
where everyone around me moves up a notch
if something sudden and nasty happened to me.
Wobster’s Dictionary, word of the day: Coronation: “when you put a target on someone’s back”

*Is it me, or is his family SO high school - why?

slang: ‘why’ = because I said so
Man May 2021
the big easy
is hard lives,
what gives

this rainy city
so sublime,
it's almost a pity

that streets are lined with ****
pests and rats in the alleyways
how did things get so ******

or have they always been?

overpasses with people
lying underneath

so many homeless
it staggers the mind to think

bread bags and coffees
floating in the wake of the ferries

outnumbering 10 to 1
the loads that they carry

all the old growth
coming down

all the gold of their headpieces
tinfoil hats fashioned from crowns

no jazz or blues can save them
from the fate that waits

an engraving reading,
here lies what once was a haven
Ariel Nov 2016
They called us crazy
Mocked the crowns upon our heads + the flowers in our hair
But they really don't know us
They will never care
So we continue our Monarchy of Roses
To hide from our awful despair

Bleeding in wonderful hues
We die together in the stars
Our lavish deaths will be remembered
And we shall wreak havoc from afar.
I don't really know, I was doodling and the top stanza popped into my head. It reminds me of something that might belong in the Hunger Games, like a poem from the Capital.
Beau Scorgie Apr 2016
Crowns embellished
with ebony bewitching.
A sliver of gold
pierces the veil.
Stalemate defined
by velveteen seas.
Eyes of steel incandescent
under the blacksmiths hands.
The finest sapphires inlaid.
A woman in hand
the mightiest of weapons.
Snowy mountains nourished
the victory of Man.
Gravid in mysticism
keeper of seeds
bloomed the Kings strength.

— The End —