Saturday, October 20, 2012

Life and Other Miracles VIII

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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