To the Lions

 

I

Fret not, then the people speak ill;

then they assassinate characters.

Claim to be wise, while thrill

in the bought sciences, silencing will.

Warriors behind pulpit, never dare,

to venture out of their lane, who cares.

To the Lions, who roar at markets chill.

II

Fret not, then thrown in the dens;

then your life is torn apart, sought after,

what you dost know! Dragged hens;

through mud and bile, then corrupts the lens.

Third power, who poodle the Corps. Dafter;

claiming to Hufflepuff but Ravenclaw grapher.

Umbridged Trelawney-Skeeters Clanners.

III

Fret not, then paraded in court or in Forums;

then you hunted like public enemies.

Martyred for your words and conviction, puns;

then the Jester's courting made barrelruns –

For Christ on the Cross suffered thus, defies;

what the World may spit aghast your face!

Rejoice, for you art Superman, Oni-Chan!