NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 15
Half-way through the month and we are asked to write about a, in our eyes, cresftfallen public figure – I enjoyed this maybe much more than I should have done.
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Your Lordship, may I beg for a seat?
You may, please, sit here, by my feet.
My Lord, pray school me in your rise to fame.
Ah, my son, it was a noble game.
From the lower rankings I did rise,
So humble were my goals and sights
Ne’r did I dream of such ermine heights.
But here I sit upon my throne,
Quite rightly from the sweat, my own,
And all I earned, I wrought with grace,
Which led to my seat in “the other place”,
But foremost was my wholesome plan,
To never grind down any man,
But to raise them up, to equalise,
And sprinkle hope into their eyes,
Share with them gains their labours’ won,
And play all our games as we are one,
For it is fair, and it is right,
That no man should ever use their might,
To assume a place from which to frown,
And from fetid pitchers pour scorn down,
On those who once were equals true,
These being the things I set out to do.
Wise words my Lord, I thank thee kind,
But a question here does spring to mind.
Prithee, tell this scrote dear Sire,
How come thy bombast tongue spits fire,
When in your pompous post you sit,
With wizened eyes set to dismiss,
And words twisted sharp to humiliate,
Was love driven from your heart by hate?
Why do you with sand-dry-soul cast aside,
Those aspirants who at least tried,
To walk in your shadow, when you they retire,
As on TV you declare “you’re fired”?
You toss-pot!
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Missives & Musings 