Our princes

seem

to die in vain,

apart

from us

in lonely pain.

Where are we

when they

need

us most?

Ensconced

in some abstract domain . . .

perusing thoughts

affixed

upon

kaleidoscopic Babylon, whose

aberrant proclivities

demonic activities

& macabre festivities

distract us

with great expertise from

clandestine aggressions

that

divest us

of our

own.

As our minuscule clamors wane,

hallucinogenic glamours

reign.

But still

the sober facts remain

our princes

seem to

die

in vain.