Beauty is Imperfection

You can get where you’re going by a couple of crowns

I watch them walk by, the sum of young life

Aching and honey haired, their crack voices loud

As cheap trumpets, brazen bells, oiled valves

Not knowing my medallions and orbs trod upon by Spiders

I was imperviously covered,

And imperiously stained

Cannot release my scepter

Or catch the humble rain

That dashed the trees in this fell lot

And called me a dispatcher and marplot

But I am the brother of a king and a king

The last Plantagenet, crowned by

Sharp Partisans

I conquered Henry. I lay with Anne.

This is my lot

To bear kingly burden.

My reputation and me, tarred.

Death, I pronounce it stupid

No sum, like the boy princes’ hair,

Show a life well lived

Though my dominions are rich with purposeful cars

I am forever bent

to de-clutch

My kingdom for a wooden horse

I am old, and I have been here a long time;

My kind seek no validation.

Laugh at my obliqueness as you like.

I still win

Not knowing, as blade touched skull,

That I was ever beaten

Park here, I will be a token

Aspire if you can aspire still

Say goodbye to your crown and feed

My metier

Bring your wheels to bear at the path that I have made

And learn to yield

The way I had to yield