Under my Jean folds
There lies a world of art
An octopus and a ghost under the calf
The front harbours an alien
Craving validation
And to be  more than just a figure head
Mocked by the words on his shoulder
And his challenger to the right
His fight will be permanent
Staking claim to the land he occupies
Blank spaces are new territories to be claimed
And named
After the Victors of a minor sting