the King

To what end will we find
wealth in arms.
For, in so doing
there is the free
and there is the obligate
renunciation of our children
to invented borders.
Bombs, flares, and bullets wait
delighted
by the idle whim
of the king,
numinous and swift,
in the vast
empty capsule kingdom
lovingly named
after him, so . . .
So go –
Instinctually,
you are fierce,
profoundly human.
Indulge
when the mind is naught
and the heart
a mindless drifter.
What
beautiful bodies
wait, eager
to bask in adrenaline.
March.
Legs kick,
first the left and
then the right at
ninety perfect degrees.
Oh, what varied limbs
have we homogenized?
Whose shoulders shall bear
standard issue metals,
the gleaming steel
of those destroyers
capture false diamonds
of the sun.
What whimsical and absurd
carbon are we
small, though free
because there is
no other choice.

the King

CJCayea

North Syracuse, United States

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