No More Kings~

Empty boyhood’s piercing treasure, 
Gaping wound flows without measure~

Fatherless well so dank and musty, 
Mother’s apron stained and dusty~

Flying on to spiritual glory, 
buried below a shameful story~

Puzzles locked in many rooms, 
descend in fear to ancient tombs~

Gold plated terror, worn by time, 
Glossed by light to hide the crime~

Oceans of tears to deep to sail, 
become the gull to no avail~

Enlightenment seeks to be the goal, 
oozes through the gaping hole~

Empty life lay in the ashes, 
no eyes to peer through sequin sashes.

Blinded by God’s who’ve lost their throne, 
society’s men are mindless drones~

The blood dance done, the scepter broken, 
whispers heard, where lies are spoken~

Who then will ascend to highest tower, 
claim the throne and sword of power?

Who then will feel the joy this brings, 
no throne, no sword, and no more kings~

Written age 14 whilst reading a lot of Joseph Campbell and Robert Bly at the time~

Copyright © Satprem 2012


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