A Deposed And Disgraced Despot

Who is the master and who is the slave? Within a drying tongue dead silence dwells King and peasant from the womb to the grave Both lives in all regards invisible Trapped inside their mirror's imaginary spell. From uncertainty tyrants will arise Founded by cruelty their tongues stuffed in hell Counterfeit devils with dim unclean eyes Smacking lips repeating nude calamitous lies. A youthful empire, beautiful and firm Sunk in earth's foundation with spirited good But must take care that the slithering worm That glares beneath a macerated hood Will not rot to the depths the sill plate of the wood. Good men do not engage in dubious wars Trampling legions with a vengeful look Or base their fortunes on pretentious stars Nor parading might with the grandeur of their arms.