Phalanx- formed, tortoiseshell, they stride.
Enamoured by a greater cause. Roman virtue, pride.
Hidden by the shields, a clever measure.
Heads in the shells. No answers to deliver.
Sartorial senators in togas, edged by coloured code,
They voice in pillared rooms by rote; civic votes vetoed.
A charm offensive, if believed, oratory blest
With philosophy and philanthropy, supposed to do its best.
Then viper’s nest, despotic rule, heeding inbred flaws
Seek to serve the selfish first. Lost virtue, Roman cause.
Sweltered in the fiery flames, civilisation burning out.
Repetition, this our way. Results equal, have no doubt.
Where heads are buried, blinded by the bound.
Beware warrior who treads on toes. A weakness found.
scottishmomus 