In ancient times, tribes with clubs would settle
all disputes where brutes displayed their mettle;
it was so grand to take a stand and die;
get killed?! Some thrill! No one to question why.
The pawns they died, whilst puppeteers survived;
no fools they who knew which strings to yank,
how to align the pawns to guard their flanks.
And now today elitist puppeteers
still stir the pawns, giving labels to their fears;
and as before, the fools stay in the dark,
modern pawns hurl bile in the remarks.
Detached, remote and distant – woeful snarking
used as clubs on pawns they do not know.
And so the foolish tribes will thrive and grow.
(The Random Poet: 09282022
www.therandompoet.com)
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