Lock up all the Poets, first

Before the revolution
Let’s make a resolution
To lock up all the poets
In a hall.

Give them roses, give them wine,
But never give them time
To stir up other people —
Not at all.

Shunting poor (or even rich)
Is done without a hitch:
Merely play to their fears
With finesse.

But poets can’t be bought
With a shimmy or a shot;
If they ever learn the Truth —
It’s a mess.

So give them cotton candy,
Or anything that’s handy,
To shield their stellar eyes
From the War.

By the time they discover
That Freedom has been smothered,
Their pens will have been shortened
By a sword.