The High Horseman

He walks with head held high 

Because he’s so down to Earth

He knows the how and why 

He’s too enlightened for mirth

Think you know him? Think again

His depth is never ending 

Such artistry flows from his pen

He can’t help be condescending 

His wit is so sharp, he can’t help

But notice how dull you are 

Compared to him, you’re but a whelp

Doomed to gaze from off afar

He’ll describe with a restless tongue

The evils of the world  

And how when his heart was so young

‘Twas broken by a girl

He’ll play for you men’s folly

With the strings of his guitar

If you tell him to be jolly

He’ll sneer behind his lit cigar

He calls the others phony

Yet all that he seeks is praise

All he wants is a crony

A sycophant till his last days

He calls himself an artist 

Yet thinks his work is without flaw

He assures you he’s the smartest 

And that you should gaze in awe

He basks in the admiration 

And the steady praise of all

If you don’t send him your laudations

Then you’re breaking protocol

He’ll cut you with his clever words

But his skin is soft as silk 

He’ll laugh at the unthinking herds

From among his many ilk 

He likes to write, he makes it known

He reeks of too much cheap cologne

He sits upon a kingly throne

His tone oh so acidic

And if his poems you reject

If you deny his princely texts 

If you point out some clear defect 

He’ll say that you don’t get it 

For how can your mind understand

The words of such a cultured man 

He feasts on worship from his fans

His ego parasitic 

For he can judge what others do 

He’ll point out all the faults in you

But if you dare to do it too?

He’ll say “Everyone’s a critic”


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