24 Oct 2016 – Sonnet

The surgeons scalpel is a cunning tool,
demanding great discrimination, skill,
and patience in its wielding. Not for fools, when even one miscalculation kills.
No such finesse is needed, raizing walls
that far too long outlived their usefulness.
For that, the basest iron is best, big balls!
Is this a task demanding tenderness?
You say the wrecking tool is crass and crude?
You say it’s better that the walls remain
and your confinement’s better than the rude
revolt of lesser beings you disdain?
Sing on, and pray to God you get your way,
the yoke grows heavy, some of us can’t wait.