The king's immortality.
Pores in his Teflon imagery.
He wasn't that godly
After all. He too had a
Butthole and his shit stank.
When the bystanders
Wrote history- their hunger
Screamed loud.
Their dilapidated huts
Against the state's
Glittery gold-
Their birds with, deprived
Wings learned to fly
And sing out loud.
Erstwhile blasphemous
Acts oozed wisdom.
Earth was no longer flat.
Sun could not revolve
Around the earth.
The crownless could be
A prince in the stories,
And the last princess did
Marry a poet of her fancy.