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Masque of Dawn I

Napolean Bonaparte's Death Mask

The Masque of Dawn travels on, bending, each new day, in painful array.

Iconic, ironic, and carefully played, the death of good conscience shall surely be weighed.

Masqued transit in forms, our people thus moving; these back and forth motions, that flatten the curving.

Compendium of fiction that forestalls the path; un-common sense leading, our nature’s new wrath.

Polemists at work, while our politics perk, and the people of Earth, ill-resting on backs.

Expounding the virtues, our structures thus lack; foregoers, in commons, spread viral attacks.

Surely we’re failing, if we thus please them all, while branding this notion, it’s anyone’s call.

Agreed on objectives, but not on the ways,

make rich people richer, relieves the malaise.

Priorities, inequities, constituent craze,

contention in focus, abhorrence is praised.

Mona Lisa Nouvelle

While suffering no conscience, legal-ease in disdain, we’re striped of its richly, half-hearted refrain.

The blight at the end of our tunnel it seems, is carrying more than the dearth of our dreams.

And the plains of our wealth, and our people in teams, shall reap its rewards, to the death of our screams.

The resources we need to clothe, shelter, and feed, are here on our Earth, in the numbers we need.

While taking your margin, thus details the facts, unending abhorrence; your faith surely lacks.

2020 Dayglow Black. All rights reserved.

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