Silas Vazquez | The King

The king’s in his tower, made of sticks and of tape
The king hoards the power, he steals and he takes
The king knows no sorrow for the things he has done
The king wants you not to think he is one
The king claims to be for the kingdom he uses
But the king loves himself, not the crown he abuses
The king loves the hate and just how his name sounds
I’m sorry, I forgot the king does not use pronouns
King’s parchment and quill are king’s bow and king’s sword
King signs away rights, just to grow the king’s hoard
King is full of kingself, king wants food, king’s stuffed again
The king cracks but is put back together by all the king’s men
If the king says king’s wearing king’s nice royal drawers
Then the king can walk naked, king’s men on all fours
For if they dare say the king doesn’t actually care
Then they are dubbed anti-kingdom and get hanged in the square
They get spanked all in turn, so will they do anything
Get fucked: fabrication under consent of the king
The king’s men will kiss on king’s feet as king walks
They suckle king’s teet as they swallow king’s cock
You can call king’s men cowards for falling in line
But you’d bow down too if you developed no spine
King wants you to think that king’s playing chess
But king plays by king’s rules and the board is a mess
The knights eat horses, the bishops are crossless
Next to king is another king, with much larger pockets
That king likes to take the black rooks from the tips
That king replaces pieces with red poker chips
That king is the model of the kingdom dream
But both kings hate the pawns who just want to be queens
The king wants to be hard and the kingdom be soft
But as a member of the kingdom. The king is fucking pissing me off.

For the king is a liar, he burns what he swears
The king sets on fire, the cross that he wears
The king’s in his tower, he thinks he’s safe
But the king’s head and body are too close for my taste
The king should feel the pain he’s so jouously caused
The king’s turned the quiet into murderous mobs
Hey kingdom, there is a way I know you can fight
And that’s for next time to aim just a bit more to the right
Another king was killed, and I think it should be shown again
When a king will delay and deny and defend
The kingdom is sick of the men who don’t speak
The king killed the kingdom in just a few weeks
It’s hard for the kingdom to rebuke this reign he’s led
For the kingdom’s the one who placed the crown on his head
And if this went over yours, then forget everything
Just let the drinks pour, and say
“Long live the king.”

SILAS VAZQUEZ (any pronouns) is newish to the poetry scene. Silas’ poems are deeply autobiographical, in that, she likes to selfishly share shattered pieces of their mind and life experience so others can hopefully find it relatable and feel seen, but in reality, it is an attempt to finally glue the broken parts together using others’ potential understanding of them. The daily struggle is pushing herself more with this art and finishing the countless partial poems they have in their pockets. He wants to thank anyone who has ever told him kind words, for the support, or harsh words, for the motivation.