The King in Red
- Paul Clive
- Apr 11
- 1 min read
The King in Red
Even in Arcadia
Amidst such hallowed meadows
Such guarded pastures
Such simple days
These mournful measures
Morbid tunes
Cry out as Legion
Recite a curse
Even in Elysian towers
Amidst such potent sacred prose
Such sorrowful arrows
Discordance grows
These gods too may die
Laying down
And up with fleas
These gods too may bleed
In fleeing hunger
Abuse of power
A thickened noose
A bladed flower
Sharpened stellar pathways
Swords from the mouth of babes
A guillotine lasts seconds
For freedom lost in days
Whether in castes or caskets
We are all kept as slaves
Yes, even in Arcadia
Upon the stony graves
The bones of Alexander
I weep to see them swift
I pray for a true ending
And to see the sleep of death
A mighty king upended
His clothing colored red
His crown upon the ground
His final edict read
Even on Olympus
Silence is sometimes gold
In the stillness of a morning
When the tyrant speaks no more
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