The Idealist

A man conceived in his own rhyme,
Fanned overwrought by the fires of his line.
Conceited by his seeming power over time,
By taking movements over in their prime.

Planning the overthrow of mind,
Conceiving a universe of his own kind.
Believing he has has his private mine
In past excesses of the blind.

The ravings of this disorderly fringe
Embossed on paper that impinge,
On every decent value bought at hard cost,
And so easily over the side lost.

He has banished character to the hills,
And enshrined senselessness in all its ills.
Oh what a legacy we've left
To only thise who are so deft.

His ideas sound very nice
But reality exacts a different price.
Progress can't be bought at another's expense,
Its not a gift but recompense.

The harborings of someone's illusion
Have now become a mass delusion.
Prompted by unknown collusion
And now awash in growing confusion.

How many causes lie hidden
By most of us unbidden.
But now completely embalmed in Law
No matter how obviously raw.

Yes, there's evil in the theme
And much forgotten in the scheme.
The sword that you now wield
Indiscriminately makes many yield.

The power to present
Is the power to prefer.
To lift one person up
Is now to cast another down.

Power now has its revenge,
The usurper is of another fringe.
Truth is trampled like its always been,
Right is just another name for the power of the in.