Ability becomes superb, becomes aplomb,
becomes metaphysical bombs dropped,
public consciousness shot;
the crowd shakes and writhes,
the crowd beats ten thousand drums,
echoing, echoing,
"The Greatest of All Time!"

Their god is flesh, is bone,
is stone becoming a wheel,
becoming a tower: royal-
-tied, educating the masses on excellence;
lacks references,
tiger dropped in the Arctic,
king of the jungle.

Does she not dance?
Does he not skip?
Do we not each,
run, laugh, and sip,

Of the deepest drum,
of the foreign choir,
of the winter breeze,
of the Chinese lyre?

We lords of dance,
we merry gods,
we royal queens,
kings and odds.

To us I raise,
to thee I sing.
For thus I praise,
for this I bring,

Facts of life:
unchartered course;
this music many,
this music Norse.

Replete, yet not.
Unbound and sought.
A reason known.
A rhythm hot.

Beneath burdened skies,
over boiled earth,
breathing of toxic mystique;
we or I,
all the same die-
-the world won't end, regardless.

Information suppression and oppression go hand in hand,
The tools of tyrants and bullies the world over.

They've no care for your triumphs, your ennui, or your rage-
Die and weep, laugh and smile, we're all the same;
just another cog in Their machine of conflict and capitalism.
-there are always more children.

A vicious cycle repeated throughout history:
"We the People!" given life anew.

The answer is obvious; the right and wrong plain:
Black Lives Matter, among other equally clear issues.
Yet, people have chosen a side bereft of love;
a misaligned mob, uninformed and angry.

It's a migraine - a growing pain and self-surgery more so, this division
where sons and daughters and those undefined rail against 'tradition'.

Mayhaps that's the due,
The price of our condition...
Or so I might have said, once upon a time.
I've since learned to live, and better learned to rhyme.

The fight is continuous, and the price always paid.
I'd rather it us, a generation razed.

Let us be as Zeus.
Not as he became, but as he was-

-a hero,
To his brothers and sisters.

-an end,
To tyranny.

Brown hair, gleaming bronze,
Plaited or free;
Blonde tresses, golden pale,
Curled or bound;
Black mass, thickest dark,
Wild or tied;
Red waves, sanguine silk,
Shaved or shorn;

(Both are lovely.)

I wonder: 'Who is Zeus?'
Who is the son of traitorous Kronos and beleaguered Rhea?
You: a declaration: intent on becoming: "Tell me,"
He is the folly of Man given might, a thunderbolt blight,
bled black Kemet, fallacy bent unto wretched epithet:
Elicius-largest: Jupiter ascendant.

This is Your tale, babe of squalor:
royal illusion ( ) delusion pressed
red into the white of Our marble edification:
table dressed in bronze/blade a throated song/stinging queens
spited joy

'Oh, Hera, honoured Mother: a saintess I have become.'
'A saintess.'
'A saintess.'
'A sinner/killer/thief of ****-driven masculinity.'

"I am Zeus: King and ****** of all things gentle!"
figment derived authority
a boy unborn from womb-destroyed embroidery/legitimacy bought with coin

"Tell me this tale."