Acrostic: The Hollow Man;
The President Who Would be King
©2018, Olan L. Smith
Therefore, he came to DC riding a dark horse.
Her back was swayed from the weight of four score
Empirical years giving her best to hoist her burden.
Prepare ye the path for the hollow man who can't
Respond to critics without slinging mud and calling names.
Enemies abound, they surround the mare; his lance is high
Salute the would be king who comes to slay windmills
In dark of night, in light of day, his mind is void,
Depleted of all but cobwebs, fairy-tales, and foul retorts.
Enemy of my enemy is my enemy, he chants, and friends who
Normally praise him are now dogs at his feet, a place
Tainted by enemy-friends, who no longer kiss his feet.
Who hides his windmills, who stops him from slaying
Hydra, and realize his enemy is his own delusional mind. It is time
On earth to turn her flesh inside out, where truth is not truth,
Where what you see and hear is not what is, but what he wants. The
Oppressed send Lyssa to rescue of the insane knight Don Quixote.
Under a rock he crawls from the wrath of Helios, for he soared
Longingly too close to the sun and now his wings of wax
Do faint in the heat, and the beasts of truth come to slay him.
Be not the king in freedoms land, and slay not the laws of liberty.
Even the jester knows not to taunt the court, but the sovereign.
Keep on your stealthy clothes, lord, no one wants to see,
Indeed, this is your dream and we are the joke of the world,
Nuts rules with support of nuts, the sane rattle the cages, and the
Ground is covered with your feces, ten miles deep.
(A.N. This acrostic is a parody (lampoon), so take it as a grain of salt if you are sensitive.)
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Şiir"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
