Sonnet: Democracy in a Fugue State
by John Kendall Hawkins
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I may be a savage, but at least I'm not a poet, say dumbstruck
tyrants, anxious to rub out the cries of freedom --
I am, I am, I am, I am, I am, affirmed
against the growing darkness of false light once termed
Progress, vigils of hope blown out one by one, Te Dium
Luciferus New Church gargoyles fugue and upchuck.
They'll cry, the wheels have fallen off: free thought must die;
monotonal megalomaniacal gloam
enforced by savage algos of the Meta-physical regime,
and it may be that it will take time to redeem
the ancient wisdom from ashes of old Rome
mixed with new life in old Grecian urns marked Why?
In the cathedral's fading light you feel the doom
of the once sacrosanct cogito ergo sum.
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