Wednesday, 23 July 2025

As I once told a friend

 

Sure, I did write to a true friend,

Si, some books need to be written

for some words require to be spoken

in ink to undo a blanc soul of its virginity


How to become a King after this Queen

To be grand, yet not too explicitly showing 

To be both clever and wise without boasting 

To be able to bear the pain while none notices

in a way Shakespeare answered their questions


He took up the thorns he'd worn for years before us

seeing what he was capable of so much the superior

that served a people, an earth and heaven's kingdom,

hail to Carolus, the wise, the green isle's final monarch


Words, pages full, that will determine our future,

where messenger and angel mocked, o not by me,

but the bearded miscreant preaching from the pulpit

of whatever creed, for these easily swap there colours

claiming they speak for G-D but knowing nought of Him

Thus a writer of literature was knifed by a devilishly stupid


Far from being inadequate, nay, that was not the reason

but He that'd made Dylan sing "times they are a'changing"

was weary of a world so rich with fictitious joy and benignity

measures had to be taken, torment extending beyond deluge

to break and cleanse a failing mankind. On its remnants renew

and protect this Holy Mother, to give birth to true nobility in each

and everyone, that oldest crowned King understood well and why



© 




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