I have a strong suspicion, truth be told,
That tyrants had a role in days gone by,
When fearsome wolves pursued us through the cold
And gods made dreadful thunder in the sky;
In perils, hardnosed leaders were a must;
We had no time to glibly question why?
Was this command imprudent, that unjust?
Close-lurking death demanded we comply.
Submission then most likely had its place,
But now it’s just a need we long outgrew,
And those who shout in everybody’s face
Just blight and bungle everything we do:
When boorish brutes beset each institution,
How slothful seems the pace of evolution!
Slothful indeed our evolution ... great use of "B" words .. blight, bungle, boorish, brutes!
ReplyDeleteThose last two lines are marvelous. They say it all!
ReplyDeleteSonnetarily scrumptious, Brother. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThe sonnet seems the perfect form for such reflections. (How did you manage to resist finishing with a call for revolution? But your conclusion is better.)
ReplyDeleteI would call for a revolution if I could think of a constructive way of bringing one about but revolutions seem never to correct the underlying issues.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I think we are devolving with those boorish brutes besetting.
ReplyDeletePast is present, sometimes. "Boorish brutes" - indeed.
ReplyDeleteSadly human beings have proved so many times they are most unfit to govern themselves as they treat life as a competition rather than a support system like most animals do.
ReplyDeleteA very well done sonnet. :)
ReplyDelete