A Deposed And Disgraced Despot Poem by Captain Cur

Who is the master and who is the slave?
Within a drying tongue dead silence dwells
King and peasant from the womb to the grave
Both lives in all regards invisible
Trapped inside their mirror's imaginary spell.
From uncertainty tyrants will arise
Founded by cruelty their tongues stuffed in hell
Counterfeit devils with dim unclean eyes
Smacking lips repeating nude calamitous lies.

A youthful empire, beautiful and firm
Sunk in earth's foundation with spirited good
But must take care that the slithering worm
That glares beneath a macerated hood
Will not rot to the depths the sill plate of the wood.
Good men do not engage in dubious wars
Trampling legions with a vengeful look
Or base their fortunes on pretentious stars
Nor parading might with the grandeur of their arms.