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THE MAGGOT'S ROOMMATE

 
He twitched as 1913 passed
Disgruntled at the news
His noisy bones would wake me up
To hear his ghostly views
He shared his thoughts on governments,
on paths that you had chose.
Oppressive taxes forced by you and how oppression grows
That last amendment passed by you raised memories of old
Fed flames of life to sleeping bones
Brought warmth against the cold

He moved in 1917
He turned inside his grave
A painful groan of discontent
The only sound he gave
Entanglements he'd warned against
Alliances he'd cursed
That world war you had to fight would make that year his worst
I scurried from his mandible in terror for my life
Through ghostly curses cast at you,
the source of all his strife

He kicked in 1928
Rebellion born again
The ancient flame that fed his life
Now fed by stupid men
That sudden crack of coffin wood
Those splinters raining down
This stormy soul who long ago had challenged England's crown
To mock a thirst as great as his with prohibitions laws
A game of tyrants played by you
In search of higher cause

He dug in 1951
Defiant of your course
His bony hands would claw the Earth
and climb without remorse
Indignant with your latest war
The eagerness you showed
The ease with which you the damned the young to fates which you bestowed
He grumbled as he slowly climbed of ruler's arrogance
Compared your growing government
to kings he'd fought against

He gagged in 1952
McCarthyism's smell
He pushed himself above the Earth
and damned you all to hell
He saw your frightened citizens
your frantic search for clues
your paranoia's justified by patriotic views
Devolving down to tyranny from heights not seen before
from principals on which he'd lived
now gone forevermore

He disappeared in '53
Embittered by your ways
We left that lonely grave behind
In search of better days
The glory of your youth had passed.
Your truths had turned to lies
The royalty he'd fought against now ruled in disguise
I moved inside his cranium for shelter from the rain
Where once I'd feasted fitfully
upon his stormy brain

He paused in 1954
A final look behind
Beneath the watchful moon above
he almost changed his mind
Rebellion strong inside his soul
but lonely in the night
Complacent as their freedoms fell, they lost without a Fight
But with the hope that people rise as tyrants come and go
He screamed these words through wooden teeth
I'll be in Mexico
 

© 1999 MadGerman

 
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