Thursday, April 03, 2008


A bit if meat, a draught of wine
A spoon of kingly porridge
Each rests within temporal reach
And within these we may forage

Tell me then which is not for me
From which I must refrain
Yank upon the steely bit
Place your hand upon the rein

You who say, “There be no God
And each man’s choices are his own”
Would make me pay another’s fees
And set yourself upon that throne

Can quorum pars enslave a man
By lot or plebiscite
Without risking rude awakenings
When the slaves don to unite?

Be well,

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