No Captain

Others fought

and died for naught

Myths the elixir

Spooned from birth

Assures no crisis of conscience

upon dying breath

To the grave with hands clean

Hyperbole reigns

in a Kingdom of Queens

Tourette’s Syndrome for

the body politic

Enema bag of the Republic

a cleansing purge

Yet men will still die

for myths

No Captain at the helm

and the rats are jumping