I fear for your soul, as you lurch

and stumble, in the manner of

Frankenstein’s Monster, stitched together

with bloated handcrafted hate

and led by money through the nose,

led by old school isolationism,

led by ignorance

and greed, the I want led by the I have…

I fear for your soul.

 

I fear for your heart, the once at least

caring side displayed by a Camelot King,

a chair-bound, three times anointed knight

and the fun loving Sax man,

all had their breakages, their misfortunes

as they chased a Guinevere of sorts,

but they didn’t leave the realm

to fall in the eyes of their friends,

this is fall awaiting the last days of Camelot.

 

The Delaware rages at the spectre

of losing its place in the independent story,

losing out to an ice rink with ego,

and yet what remains is also tainted

by lies, damned lies and statistics

plucked from the air and bandied around

like swords in the hands of lunatics…

Yet what can I say,

the lunatics across the wilds to the East,

who sit in judgement of Avalon

are not that much better.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016