The Kings Elect a Jester

We found a field of fools
We planted long ago
Before our eyes, what a surprise
To reap what we would sow

We thought that we would like
To hear the honest truth
But it's all lies, and who denies
We like fools just uncouth

There's something in the soil
That grew our fools all wrong
The old were wise, but these despise
All those who don't belong

The jesters with their bells
Are doing somersaults
Their ignorance is just as sense
As all their many faults

And yet the crowd is cheering
They want them to lead on
The tightrope breaks, the jester rakes
Dead bodies until dawn

Deceased Poet

What good's a living poet?
He won't be taught in schools --
His words, though true, aren't subject to
The ramblings of such fools.

What good's a living poet?
There's no one gets his rules --
You just sit there, quite unaware
And call him king of fools.

What good's a living poet?
His words seem useless tools --
They won't convey the things he'll say
To you unreading fools.

What good's a living poet?
There sitting on their stools
To read aloud to such a crowd
Of five or fewer fools.

What good's a living poet?
He'll die and then you ghouls
Will think him great and then his fate
Will be exposing fools. 

Might or Right

What sort of justice justifies you Gauls
To dare demand this land, by threat of force
And violence, from these, their rightful owners?
What business do you even have to ride
And raid through Etruria, barbarians?

Because all things belong to those who, brave,
Will carry justice on the points of swords!

The Romans, civilized, thus asked the Gauls --
The Gauls, barbarians, gave answer back.

And thus the civilized continue asking,
And thus the barbarians still reply.

What sort of justice justifies demands
That others must hand over what they own?
Injustice born of force, unjust justice,
What's justified by all barbarians
Whenever those barbarians may rise.

On the Prophets of Beauty

In ancient times the prophets were the wise --
They saw into the unity of things --
There's nothing human they could not surmise --
They promised people but eternal Springs.

In modern times the prophets only know --
But knowledge brought a power and a call
For specialty, diversity to grow --
But somehow people felt it brought the Fall.

And now the time has come for prophets who
Preach beauty -- wisdom, knowledge both combined --
To unify our senses with our reasons,
And show how old and now create the new,
So in this wealth humanity can find
Appreciation of all of the seasons.