Heavy handed wear the crown
Upon thy lofty throne
The only way to look is down
Not to love but to own
To position truly bound
Thy place ever alone
Unexpected truths confound
Through hubris overthrown
The king is a fine subject
Subjected to his rule
As subjects we must object
Subject: royal ridicule
Object at once subjective
Subjects empires’ tool
Subjected the collective
Subjects object the fool
In position superior
All else appears inferior
From this perspective no one is exempt
Ruler’s motives ulterior
With prospects ever drearier
It’s no surprise they hold us in contempt
The king can have no equal
Nor does pope or premier
Each title that we seek will
Be besmirched with this veneer
Leaders subject to weak will
Profit from proffered fear
Of subject never speak well
Contempt comes with career
Far down their noses look
About the pleblic scurry
Hung on the noble’s hook
You wonder what’s the hurry
Atrocities they brook
To eat ever the worry
God limits what they cook
Add insult to injury
Stricken they flail about
The unwashed and unkempt
Assured only of doubt
The risk of the attempt
While opulence must flout
The lure of greatness tempt
The masses are kept out
Ever held in contempt
In position superior
All else appears inferior
From this perspective no one is exempt
Ruler’s motives ulterior
The subjugated wearier
It’s no surprise they hold us in contempt
As vermin worthy only of disgust
The role as human filth assured
Held in rancor and distrust
As children: unseen, unheard
To the yoke of status trussed
Noble/ignoble: conferred
Such decisions not discussed
Derision for the common herd
Human Superior to Earthen Mother
Indeed a consummation only dreamt
For to place oneself above another
Is to be held as others, in contempt
© 2013
