Once Kings

oh how we sometimes fall

walking through bottles

of prescription inscriptions

five cent deposits

living off change

loose pocket currents

the once great halls of kings

now alleyways of whispers

quite talks of used coffee cups

containing livelihood

a quarter of a quarter

or a nickel plus

silver crown of aluminum

grasped in a withered fist

so low

we’ve fallen

so low

through cracks

of words

of poets and radicals

where then

where is it

that promised revolution

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