Upon the seat of wealth they sit mocking our dignity with the sceptre we put in their hands.
They are elites of society, men of caliber, true sons of Orcus.
Descending upon us like the morning dew carrying the newness of dawn,
On oath, they promised Canaan,
Dazzling us with subtilties till blindly we crowned this sons of Orcus sovereign.
Woe!
Trust is Achilles heel!
Canaan is a daydream!
Reality is betrayal!
Reality is famine!
Reality is drought!
Reality is pestilence!
This sons of Orcus have loosened a pale horse upon us!
The bravery of our youths has made them martyrs!
Our future has bitten the dust!
Reality has commanded survival!
Survival has demanded self-love!
Self-love has forbiden Ubuntu!
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 3:56 AM UTC
Stiff necked as iron,
I run steel rings of self-love.
And by deep opiums of selfishness,
Abhor collectivism, crying fidelity to
Perfidious men.
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 1:50 AM UTC