Notorious

     (This Kingdom in Denial)

 

     An emperor stepped out today,

Greeting throngs of disenchanted

Peoples with waves as if;

     As if they were all so jubilant -

To be within his orbit.

 

     Walking streets in clothes

A saint could not afford,

He’s scanning all for approval,

     But loathed to admit

His jealousy for the ‘tracky’

And the hoody,

The uniform of poverty

His state of play accords,

 

     A sheen of sweat for

His nervous demeanour -

Gives way - his anxiety,

And his guilty look can never

Be mistook,

     A revealing hint

His victims know before it’s done -

A revengeful woe

Upon these clean cut children he desires.

 

     He is no more an emperor

Regarded with any social stand,

As surrounded by the hoodies,

The leather jackets – jeans and trainers,

He’s realized he’s out of depths as

He stalks the latest manor –

And fast,

     He seeks the enclave

Of a night to shield his fantasy

That perversely;

     Makes ridicule of law.

 

     ‘it don’t do well

To dress well to do around

Here!’

     ‘For Manchester,

Be not the place for states of

Grace that belittle the little

We have,

     The young boy says with psychic eyes

For, he has learned the rich

And luxurious ‘don’t’ listen too well

To the streets of a Kingdom no longer

United, no longer glorious,

Far from honest and now notorious -

For crimes against the child.

    

     The emperor,

Now knowing the piss stop

Be nothing more than spittle

In his face,

     Retreats back

From aqueous – this State,

Where acid tongues,

Acid lines and acid rain

Dissolves what garments of

Wealth adorn his lithe body,

     For looking around beneath

The dowdy clothes

The young folk wear,

He can see only bruises

And scars, cuts and scabs

Of poverty; something prevalent

In cities that only the inhabitants

Know how to nurse,

 

     The child screams his latest

Whipping,

     But not from Ma and Pa;

But from the visitor to the home

That never comforted or taught,

And as the assailant makes haste

His exit below the twilight

That bears witness - every Cherubs death;

     His attire - pristine and clean -

Cannot hide the blemish upon

His monstrous soul,

Nor the envy for his prey,

Whom despite their rags,

Hold within themselves -

The light that blinds

Each emperor who murders,

Who will always one day be;-

Bereft of everything they have,

Disrobed of all humanity

They’ve claimed.

 

Michael J Waite 10th February 2015.