No salary

Hilter didn’t draw a salary either…
neither did Cesear,
Nero fiddled while Rome burned –
but Orange goo reaps profits…
no emoluments clause to follow,
worshippers on knees
giving up their oversight
in lieu of the humanity
of others…
constituents,
sisters, brothers, meaning less
than their profit margins –
we see the Sargent
that they are matching to…

out in native habitats
doing battle
against semantics
wielded by foul men
and nefarious plans

Pulling prose from ether
to recall in future times
when I’m in repose
and no more,
unfurl the scroll…
there I go
into perpetuity
by way of words
dispersed that are
unrehearsed.

Refusing to heed
to the calls of boxes
we outfoxed them –
the refuge of words
is the frequency
heard and echoed
by the mighty,
those who wield
the pen indeed,
and it is
that implement
which will lead us
back from the
dark places.