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
Beauty is Imperfection 