Daniel Freer, Spring 2016 (March 9)
A somber day and here we are
With a distressed Crimson Lord Wladyslaw
For each of his constituents seemed to find
They’ve not a similar thought in mind
As to what the country aught to be.
“Be strong,” said the Crimson, “Stand tall, resolute.
Keep what we have, play the war flute”
“What we have is broken” screeched the pale Minion in black,
“We have the support to take it all back
To raise ourselves plainly above the rest
All others are maggots, we must be the best.”
The Bluebird cries out “The others are people.
We must not divide by mosque or steeple
The system is broken, Minion spoke true
But the days of building walls are through
I grew up in a melting pot, let it stew
And provide the same leverage for me and you.”
The bluebird was heard by an Officer Flan
Who took the intel and created a plan
“I have the Lord’s ear, he’ll listen to me
I’ll speak like the bluebird but truly I’ll be
A Crimson Official to the end of my days
And when Wlad kicks the bucket, I’ll get a raise.”
Wlad saw this all coming and couldn’t decide
In which party he could confide
His deep dark secret.
For while the others argued he was torn
Pulled by each sentence, each word was a thorn
His job as Tsar was to keep them together
But these hopes were less real than his belt of leather
Which felt cold against his throat
When all else failed, he held a vote
The numbers wer read and revealed his fate
The stances to different, the tension too great
And the belt’s leather felt cold no more.