Authority of the few obfuscates the sitting wealth of the many

Pick up the facial expression for the equipped special forlange,
they are a seasoned bastion of joy and conjoined command,
commenced in a communal parlance and alter pasture,
dinner in Calabria tuning stock over-packed garage stays,
like Mount Carmel feeding Enoch translated on voyage dispersed,
on trans-scopes of corners not vacant or fast, influenced – wasted
like troops in the valley adopted on duality of discourse of Caleb,
like the armies of masters and the patronage of a few in the valley of murder,
packed up stations from the warming special, never known,
never hurled or bitter or sworn to the enemy, for we
were once kinds of kings ourselves.

It all started with an ancient people and one lone individual, lost in circles,
lost in language, lost in logic, who could see the shapes of things until finally
that became repeated, like clockwork of the imagination, and until finally that became
expanded upon and then finally canon. He was an artist – stolen partitions annulled,
and after he died that of the emblems of his marking became gold, fabled stations,
until they became nothing, his image too sacred to be shown,
not anymore, too deified to be shown to the greatest of these,
never made a salvation to anybody left at the mercy of those in power.

Now the very idea of him a security deposit to keep the wealthy
strong and those without at the bottom of strategic line of societal
structures, like absent Gods on the wind falls on the dulcimer unfurled.
Now disparity is the God of millions. And the very structure of life’s dishonor.