To be a weed
. . Without a flower
To lust for seed
. . The base of power
By choking good from all.
To have no creed
. . No ivory tower
That those you feed
. . Must scrape and cower
That they must heed
. . Your screed and glower.
I have been freed
. . No longer dour
In my new breed
. . I fix the hour.
July 29, 2011
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