Populisms

a poem by W. M. Faulkner

Silence, shudders befall the befuddled
Tyrants, discover find your mind fully muddled
Compliance, uncover exploitation of the troubled
Defiance, recover and never end the struggle

Shake, stink you know the travesty’s grown
Fake, ink pressed does not fall the kings or throne
Break, think there’s no thing your culture bemoans
Ache, drink to forget and sell all your bones

Alchemy, elixir this is your love you are her need
Anxiously, splinter while she scribes the screed
Bankruptcy, sinister ending world she’s benevolent Bede
Ataxy, inhibitor record the determinate antecede

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