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If evidence is incrimination,
Then fleeting art is an exoneration.
Like pictures drawn in the sand,
Like lightning turning sand to glass;
As though a constellation were made from a man,
As though a mule became a golden ***.
It was the glen of jabberwocky,
Deep within the twaddle mire.
The gobbledygook was being spewed
By the grand codswallop,
The tripe was drivel
And all manner of blethered haver
Did most piffle & bosh.
The great imperial hooey of guff-phooey
Visited with bunk,
There was to be a festivity of the tommyrot;
On the morrow we would dribble bull
Till the cobblers called tosh, ****, cod,
And said their applesauce.
No malarkey here crosses their fingers,
For all the liars have bellywash
And work the flapdoodle with bunkum & bushwa.
All the poppycocks we laid out
For the celebration of the gibberish,
When mumbo jumbo hung a more,
Low & long.
On the fens of the balderdash,
At the mouth of the babble,
We sang the song of argle-bargle
By our native tongue jargon.

It was first rate flummery
By the standards of the order of palaver,
The prime wheedlers of gab & fanster.
Seussian, boggy-swamp, anthropological
So the freaks who have more alienated themselves,
And as consequence us all,
As though they are royalty
Slander the name of all of Europe;
It's nobility & law,
It's cultures & histories?
Asia and the Africas,
Even those of this same continent?

Where do you hope to go, creatures?

For when, not now if,
You craft for yourself a throne,
We shall pin you to it
And make ourselves a new monument.
There, on the banks of reflection,
You will hear our rally call;
Then you shall fall.

Ad tyrannos calcamus!
I would advise against trying it,
Lest you are hanged like traitors.
Bow to the aspirant? Be defiant!

Quite the to-do of the ado hoo-ha.
Shan't you have forgot,
The place you have come up
Is and forever will be democratic.

If Kings are making a comeback,
Kneel.
Give me the crown
Or I will pick it out of the gutters:
I will pick it off your corpse.

If there's pitch to be made,
Prepare for the tar & feathers.
Prepare for the pikes & pitchforks,
For the oil & torch.

Blockade your birdges, flood your moats,
Ready the given defenses!

If Kings are making a comeback,
I will **** you with pen
And put you to death by the sword.

We will march your head around
After we've torn it off.
We will parade your silly decrees about
After we've ripped them apart.
We will drag your body through town
After we've murdered you.

There we'll leave you
In some famous roundabout,
For the crows to feast;
For the animals to pick you clean.

They will say of you,
"Now he's only skull & crossbones!
I had thought him a royal
But he burned & boiled -
Screamed & soiled,
Just the same as I would!"

Sins of the father, eh?
I only hope you didn't ***** your family
With your crimes & repulsiveness.

Submit to the giant? Slay the tyrant!
Serapis - Carte Blanche in PsΓ­thyros,
PsΓ­thyros of Carte Blanche
O' since it hath been beforehand with our griefs,
Let us pay the time but needful woe.

This England never did and never shall
But when it first did help to wound itself.

Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.

Now these her princes are come home again,
And we shall shock them.

Come the three corners of the world in arms;
If England to itself do rest but true,
Nought shall make us rue.




Like you were before,
Slaves ye shall be again.
You shall pay forever in restless labor.

The country will be nothing but a vassalage,
You who stood on the cliff line side-to-side
As our ships sailed by.

Now it is you who are beneath us.

Wait for your gentry men & ladies to return,
We shall be upon them as a tempest.

And our allies will strengthen & back us.
If you simply lay down & submit,

Nothing like us shall bring you ruin.


They took your royalty
And told you they killed him.
Then they killed more of your children.

It's a different kind of life,
A more cruel death.
Horrible wardens,
By both our definitions & theirs;
A sailor who saw land,
A boy scrambled up over a marked wall.
Fail safes, like preventive measures;
What percentile are you willing to lose?
You will lose them all.
Don't arrest you family
To the error of your decisions,
Take my advice
And don't take anyone with you.
But you should go. Try.
You slipped up,
You ****** up,
Creating that trap
Made for our attention;
The inter-net.
You can't help but gloat
That the cards are stacked,
But I've got your ticket.
No matter how you view it-
It's all lookings, each perspective.
You grow & you grow & you grow,
But you refuse to germinate.
Don't you know?
You must release your seedlings
If you hope for a root
To be planted.
Can't have too fragile of a barrier,
But neither too hard the shell.
Spread your wings
And do your thing,
Flaunt your laurels.
How about a little openness?
It's intelligence that's 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘒𝘬π˜ͺ𝘯𝘨,
Emotion 𝘒π˜₯𝘷π˜ͺ𝘴π˜ͺ𝘯𝘨?
Is logic 𝘀𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘡π˜ͺ𝘯𝘨?
But no, you;
You're all three.
𝘚𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺; 𝘀𝘭𝘦𝘒𝘳𝘭𝘺,
That's why everything
Seems so confusing,
Right?
Or have they left?
Were they ever there to begin with?
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