Week 18: Innovator vs. Frank (Innovator)

[Vulgar]

LGPA Season 1: Week 18

Innovator Frank

Check ins: Thursday (Midnight Eastern time)
Poems Due: Friday (Midnight Eastern time)
Votes due: Sunday (Midnight Eastern time)


Topic:

Mock Epic


Best of luck to both competitors. Bring your best poetry forth unto us, the readers.

[Frank]

goodluck

[Inno]

Wisdom lends a hand to irony


There he stood atop the hill, king
Martyr to his skin, preacher to his sins
His crown blistered and worn
His cloak woven from empty veins
A throne aloft beyond the heap.
A relic of old ideas, hes the past reborn
As he watches over his kingdome
Like the sun beaming down on a distant desert
Seeping through the roots until they rot
Billowing his breath along the planes
Like a hurricane out of hell
Towering over the peasents that work to no end
With an iron fist he segregates to his choosing
Favoring those alike while the different
Pave through the pain of each mile
This ivory king ruling with his ivory strings
Puppets the marionettes with out consent
Building cities along the backs of others
Weaving society with the sweat of agony
Morters made of skin, walls painted in blood
King al mighty sees it all from tower
Enjoying the show, riveted by the actors
Casted with no choice, in a never ending movie
He directs the politcs of life with each whim

His kingdome bright with white promise
They shy away from the shadows
Always in the light scared of the darks reach
Frightened of change his court holds steady
White picket fences adorn the avenues
Green meadows growing contrast agianst blue skies
Hiding the secretes of the kingdome under
White washed woven rugs.
this king, monarch to a stolen crown
Jester to a humorless circus
King to a kangaroo court, unappointef judge
Judging skin tone to the slaves.......


....but

Time serves this king to a fault
And he falls victum to his own gal
Brewing hate filtered thirst- parched
Dying for rain.

Change is a must and nothing stays the same
As his kingdome crumbles to a revolutionary wave
The ivory tower sinks and the kalidescope reigns
While the king is left to the past, stuck in his ways
Hes a relic of old ideas, monarch to the contrast
Martyr to his past. Never letting go of his rusted crown
Still atop the hill he looks down at the society he found
No longer ruler just a bystander to his linage
This king sleeps with the very peasants he enslaved
Forced to mingle amongst the soot staining his white gloves
His crown dusty, his royal cloak bathed in his sins dirt
His thrown blackened, his kingdome shadowed