The Gates

Enter ye in at the wide gate:
For wide is the gate, and broad is the way,
That leads many to poverty line,
Impelling them into injurious starvation;
To hearing of human rights
Preserved only but for the few;
And to hearing of decorated manifestos,
Implemented by the shading of blood;
By excruciating of the innocent,
Guised vigorously as suspects;
By seizing of the poor man’s rupee
And of the widow’s fistful realm;
By declensional constitution reformations
In favour of us, the once-and-again chosen,

Sabotaging the electors’ virtuous hopes,
Who when they oppose are lambasted
By the narrow gateman’s right hand,
Shoving them back to the wide gate
And many there be which go in threat.

Enter ye not in at the narrow gate:
Because strait is the gate,
And narrow is the way,
Which leads us unto comfort;
Unto dignity and fearful salutations;
Unto the honour of menacing convoys,
Cheered by the starving throngs
On the roadsides with fugacious smiles,
Dressed in filthy incompatible dresses,
Who, when we at them throw a quartered bar of
soap,
Compose us songs of thanks and praises,
Thereby re-electing us for another lap
Of eating from their sweated dishes,
Emptying them for our own gratification,
Promising them, of course, better saucers
Which, as result, come with tears and mutiny
In exchange of theirs without agony,
Opening us the magnific narrow gate

And few there be that find it.