No Kings (Sonnet)

They hide from us the things They do and say,

Far past the ken of crowds and public eyes,

I’d tell it all, but for this NDA:

How freedom dies beneath their web of lies.

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In mansions grand and ballrooms bathed in light,

The bankers drop their gilded treachery,

While politicians shed their staged delight,

They serve their lords, but never you or me.

.

While public coffers never seem enough,

Wealth, by design, will only trickle up,

And though you think you merely have it rough,

It’s your red blood within Their golden cup.

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It’s time again to ring the copper bell,

As Archons crown their chosen kings of Hell.