The Day of The Drone

This Day is growing for the serving drones;

The time of empty homes and worry stones.

Apollo’s ember now burns here colder,

Ragged by Hephaestus’ icy hammer

Humanity’s renowned virtue belies Hope,

Vanity, ousted by a crueler note.

Rung from the un-tuned Bell Tower,

And hung from gallows in the Arty Bower!

Death’s gentle irony affixed pleasure—

Let the Meek take the lead measure;

The hive is ridden of plastic followers,

The Queen has died; the nest is hollow-er.

I Recompense

I reciprocate with recompense

Your racial tone and free two cents,

With idle hands and pallor skin—

I recompense, I recompense.

I recompense for being trite

For all your Hate and all my plight;

To do a job and do it right—

I recompense, I recompense.

I recompense my German-look,

The Dutch last name my Fathers took,

My bloody hands your Devil shook—

I recompense, I recompense.

I recompense entitlement,

Reparations from the Government;

My entire life in sufferin’—

I recompense, I recompense.

I reckon Hell and reel your slack,

As sweat and Pain run down my back,

Pardon me for what I lack—

I recompense, I recompense.

I recompense the Crumbs you drop,

Your Crystal Stair that I ain’t got;

To feed, as you just waste a Crop—

I recompense, I recompense.

I recompense the Laws you bent,

My tired back, my angry vent;

I’m held like you between Their splint—

I recompense, I recompense.

I recompense for being White,

‘Take care of me, no room for I.”

You can’t tolerate my Bitch and gripe;

I recompense…

I recompense this dirty glass,

This depleting drink, the worthless Flask,

This worn-out speech, your tit-for-tat,

I recompense…

I recompense your money stack,

Your racial brand across my back

Fuckin’ A’ that’s where it’s at

This recompense; my recompense.

Amethyst Grave

Her Moonstone Jewel shined nothing like the Sun;

Festoon'd remembrance as the maidens reap-

Cool Jade mind-struck, her ghastly pen did stun,

And pricked my awful finger’s ancient leap.

Mauve—betwixt the Flower’s idle stemming,

I beheld what thieving gems did lie with aim!

And stayed before Time had found me swimming,

About Her stolen pendant all the same:

I said, “it’ll sleep,” anon dying mem’ry,

That hast swooned what Life the Mirror bade;

Beyond my reminiscent Ministry,

I’d betrothed her mourning, amethyst grave!