Apology of Clemens
King, what do these mongers wish
extort? My word,
my seal, over this bond of paper that
will bond of toil
become for the generations not even
born? Let them
try and paralyze me, when I have to
aid me God and reason.
No, I will not set my hand upon this
deal, writ by men
of evil will. All foolishness is
found pursuing money,
and this madness is no other: to levy
not those that can
still fight and wrest control, but
those unconceived.
If you make them voiceless, let their
multitude gather
in my protest, for though their
number is a mystery,
I scare think the Lord would make it
low, and thus
this plan would come to fruition in
ranks of debt slaves.
I will tell thee, Master, the ill of
the nation, that will
not be cured with obligation, one
caused by many a
poison that makes it falter, fall
upon the earth with
might crush, upon the nations
plundered by the war.
The trade with Cathay so long sought
now flows
unwanted, unsolicited to shore. Ship
after ship into
harbor sails, and ships away gold and
lien on our land.
Yet thee dare not tax the giant, for
sake of mean ire!
And look at the magnates: they who apply
destiny and
genius to reap the riches of the
land, thinking they have
neither God or man to thank make
themselves princelings
over rocks, with their citizenship
rejecting want of public coin.
And whilst the Treasury counterfeits
coin from paper
that pledges firstborn, the servants
that serve are paid
nothing, and their overseers do
nothing to be generously
recompensed for a culture of
corruption in your government.
And how does the body politic see its
cancer and amputation?
With apathy, with apathy it sits in
sloth transfixed by cheap
circus of the internets and the dole,
that has become the bribe
for poor and homeless, that they may
not melt thine crown.
Do I speak to fool when I remind you,
Lord, of these things?
They in your sight happen, but your
heart nor theirs takes heed:
this has been the way for so long.
But my heart flutters at thine
request, makes me dishonorable,
worthy of progeny’s damnation.
But I remember when this was not so,
when we were victors
over world, when gold overflowed,
bred by honest work
not machination. I will not signify
death of the dream that
is our past with this warrant, not if
you dare my ghost to flee!
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