As I daydreamed in class
I often wondered about the face
hung over the blackboard
above Ferdowsi’s famous rhyme
on wisdom being power.
But power is a funny thing.
Never a mean to an end,
it permeates your core.
Accelerates your time
and forever fuels your hunger.
Kid yourselves not
we still have a king in the house
who makes whatever rules he likes
blending superstition and faith
into a mix of blood and slime
to weave the same crown of.
I want to partake in nothing.
Be free from another man’s chain.
For once I want an empty frame
to fill with whatever I want,
something like a teenager
asking for a chance for love.
jam10