HE WOULD BE KING YET

He would be king he dreamt
Even as he pored over
Tomes of the wealth of nations
A first in many
He would liberate he prophesied
Even as he assimilated Jefferson
He would never concede nor relinquish he swore
Lest his minions disintegrate
He would be the messiah he secretly hoped
Even as doubt questioned
Dawn did indeed break
And he pregnant with wisdom
Was coiled like a spring
With but a glance askance
At the towering hurdle askew
Perhaps the intolerance of ambition
Intoxication of ascendancy
The convex of primordial funk
Now these lend themselves
To futile national academic discourse
Pitting moronic against stillborn
A few mind neither
A literal death for many
There are no more dreams now
Beyond bequeathing to progeny and crony
Our mantle
No one needs liberation now
Ravings of unpatriotic demagogues
Masquerading as democrats
His nation has wealth
And so does he
Idealism is gone now, lost
In senile recalcitrance
Procrastination lingers there now
In the myopic mists of memory
Redeemed only by intermittent flashes
Of here and now
The only window for the cabal
Of intellectual dwarfs
Upon whose shoulders
Jefferson has most unjustly placed
A people’s destiny

Duke 2009