• artahammer

Contempt

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


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