I see them,
Surrounded by gutters full of filth and hills of garbage,
In thousands they come
In euphoric, near manic proportions,
To the clarion call of their leader,
Sometimes, I pass them in the streets,
Discussing the change that must surely come,
Grieving the change that may not come,
Unwilling to offer their backs to ferry the change that seeks to come.
They are allowed, enabled and honored
To unapologetically trample the heads of their masters,
Assuming all that is of no benefit to them,
Diabolic in all their narcissistic glory!
Natural order must be restored,
A servant can never Lord the master,
And the master must never take leave of his faculties,
The master is to put the house into order.