The Zenith
An abecedarian poem about corruption and power.
And what happens to the King who sat on his throne watching peasants
Bow down to his lady the crone as he sucked on the bones of the
Children he
Devoured with exhilaration, exultation, with perverse and hopeless
Excitement that poisoned the court with screaming
Fathers and filled it the brim with mothers who
Gorge themselves on
Hollow sorrow.
Inside the marble walls they scream, "What becomes of me?"
Jackals feast on the poor, that is what becomes of them, but kings?
Kings escape judgment.
Luck is what nourishes his corrupted soul.
Money and gold and goods feed a stream of unfortunate
Nobodies into his midst and down his gullet.
Oranges coat the air and mask the
Putrid scent of cannibalism.
Quaint gods make
Revolting leaders.
Solutions exist in the murky waters of change but...
There is nothing to be done, no fish to catch, no metamorphosis.
Unravelling the throne creates an unfamiliar
Violence and we love the corruption we know.
With our own cracked, bleeding, and grieving hands we put up the
Xanthic wallpaper and the bars on the windows because we
Yearn for the peak of power, we crave the
Zenith.
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This was real easy until I forgot a letter in the middle. And then again at the end. And the beginning. How'd I do that? Who knows! I swear I know my alphabet.
About the Creator
Silver Serpent Books
Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Comments (4)
I see echoes of your story within my story of dystopia. Is it not sad that this is what we all see for our future. Let us hope still for better. Great poetry here.
Wow! This was so tightly written. I loved, "Quaint gods make Revolting leaders." Amazing work. Even though you stated it in the subtitle, this poem flowed so smoothly that I forgot it was an abecedarian!
Awesome!
Terrific work!