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Everyone In This Empire

The crown prince
eyes the throne
with a celebrated name
etched on his forehead
and fables of fame
clocked in his confessions.

An autocratic czar
trained in tyranny
poses as the pin up model
for the emblem of empire.

A poor pig man
relishes the rubble
while dandifying in debris
in the game of duck and dupe
he was the green gull
fooled to fish a pigeon
in handcuffed homage.

A dummy gagged
and ditched of a dental dilemma
conforms to nasal notations
scripted with a symbolic signature
the transcript being the text
and his version the string of a shoe.

The king, queen, knight, bishop
and rooks are ready
black and white baring their chests
while the players are tongue tied
vegetables of the backyard
pounded as parasites
and ignored as insects
then there is the
west ward warmongering
foes contesting to con the cohort
the larva is leeching on the line
awaiting the nailing of another cross.

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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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