The poor and disenfranchised will gather together and defeat the rich and mighty…
Might Verses, Mite
The widow showed up the rich with her two very small copper coins – term mites to what the rich wood know. –from Mark 12:41-44
The farces of death
In a greed mutuality
Dissemble
To raze up
The whirled
In the soul weigh know how
As if pro-seeding
In a mass funereal
Still born agin and agin
No-ing this in life
And this a loan
Assure wrest weigh
To improve won’s reputation
Is to dye
With a pedigreed shroud
As laud as they can be
Giving only their ordained elegies
And far-flung reps
Storied in the shit
And kingdom’s maid
Abut a lass
The mighty will
Be bought
Down
To their Lilliputian devices
Assure as mite makes rite
A widow’s generosity and sacrifice
Trumps opulent means
A mite as a mote in the eye
Sum kind of poetic just us
Verses the most grandiose planks
Politicians ever be helled
With every mote
A storm’n the castle
And when we find ourselves
Weather many or few
Even
In the mettle
Of that minority of won
In pesky persistence
As a mosquito
A mist the dark
Disturbing the peace
Of king-size knuckle aheads
So so trying
Too wrest
In their shady manors
That wring in their years
The buzz that madders
One people
To rule them
Awe
