My love
The king by any other name a pissoir
You, my love tower over them all
they are but vermin beneath your heels
They are monkeys
Suit them, frame them to your own vision
but do not let one false word
of mockery seep through to your vast heart
I have seen you from close and afar and your worth
far exceeds your height, your width
the depth of your sorrow
Oh willful outcast doth thou not see the light of our love
our linked fortunes
our hearts melded together
into one fine golden braided finery
They listen to the music of idiots and amuse themselves
with the sordid Miseries of their businesses
They are not the things of angels
nor of any higher outpost that humanity might aspire to
Your loathsome vomitous
businessman king is of the lowest order
his advisors
crumbling mockeries of education driven by avarice
My love
dress them in the suits of mockery
and in their advanced state of stupidity
and senility
burn and destroy them so their ashes might join the compost
which they so much deserve
If justice on this earth be fleeting
let us for once hear the weeping
and the braying of the businessman king
Let them be the the orangutans they are
and set them blazing from the chandelier for all to see
hanging from the ceiling by their ridiculous chains
and petticoats which you will have them wear
under the guise of costumic buffoonery
He who underestimates
in time is bound to find the truth sublime
and hollow lie upon the grates of systemic disorder
Businessmen
you're not worth shitting on