Filmer

The riches of the world cease
Save for the kings who rule it.
Adam, eternally recurring,
His divine heritage as King,
Ruler over all flesh...

He drinks the draught
Of rainbow liquor,
And merries his meed
Into the womb of his wife.
Yet, for the world around him,
Their sustenance goes to his belly:
Their wagons, their cotton and wool,
Their games, their arts, their labors
And all their luxurious leisure.

He smacks his lips, and upon them are spices
Numerous: Fenugreek, cinnamon,
Turmeric, Ginger, Onion, Chili,
Clove Garlic and pickled Ginger, fried in Cottonseed Oil, 
Mint, Cilantro, whisked together with cream.
The tinge of clam broth,
The decadence of scallop and crabmeat,
A pound of Roasted Beef, salted and cooked
To its decadent perfection,
Suckling pork dusted with sugar and salt,
Lamb liver fried in mint, cinnamon and  cumin.

He plucks his grape from the bowl,
His strawberry, his banana and apple,
His pomegranate, mango and melon---
While he eats, and takes, and consumes,
The people around him wane into poverty.
For, his magisterial justice cares only
To feed himself--- his Judges allow him
The sustenance of virginal flowers.
His law his his own belly.

He picks up his wine, cherry and deep,
And drinks, tasting the oak upon his food;
The sweet grape accenting his yams and potatoes
Delicately pureed with butter, salt, and cream;
And his expertly crafted steak shall hint of grape berry.
The men and women around him starve, though.
Their work feeds him--- and he exacts all their taxes.
He does not care, for he wishes it to be so.
So he can incur God's wrath,
And see if the sun truly will darken.
To see if the stars truly do fall.
To see if the moon tr8p7 will turn to blood.