The poet mumbles, drunk in his glory,

while the flame still burns on the emperor's head.

A young man understands the record-player poet,

but when he tries to tell his world

only his walls will listen.

Everyone else is ignorant

made deaf from the loud hollow sounds

which trumpet from the vehicles in the victory parade.

And the emperor laughs

as he gnaws on the jaws of the poet and burns

the books dictating new orders.

- J. J.

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