great hands/shall plea

you are free/ your life in your hands/ and we will shield you from fatality/ no right have we to lay commands/ to open your lock; we have no key/ make a living, we let you be/ under our wing, oh do agree/ to embrace the same esprit as we/ you’ll never see/ a day shan’t leave you uneasy/ will soon turn you strong as we decree/ what we do, so it be/ in safe hands, you and me!

no pretence!

oh do foresee/

unenvy’d our greatness be/

yet afore you a condition stands/

bow before us and shake our hands — — —

Elites only

put on your identity!

as staged: you are family.

you are no person, but an entity.

failure is non-conformity. this is a game.

you put your heart on the line.

you needn’t a name.

glory? – ha – not thine.

get on your horse, noble knight,

’tis your honour.

submit, and remain high in sight,

for eminence is your armour. (the mask of gold

shields the invisible cloak

of passion’s death

for incomparable success.) “who are you?

you have no rank

nor reputation.

is it not enough?

we acknowledge your existence

and thank you.

the day will come

that marks the end.

never in sync,

so why try again?” (listen – do you hear their plea?

speak of your facade now.

how you cherish only those who stand with you.

how all else is insignificant.

how you prioritise oblivion.) (they see you hang your sign –

the Elites only.

sad little tools for proselytisation, I must thank you. truly.

I want no part of your exclusive conformity.)

originally published 7 Aug 2015