The Mortal-laughing Spleen*
(somewhat after the style of Edmund Spenser's The Fairie Queene**)

Here I, one man, whose eyes a war made see,
  As taught by time, in discount thrift-store thread,
  Feel now the need to undertake for free
  A lyric deconstruction, sung to shred
  Our vain "elites," of large but empty head,
  Whose praises having leapt from silence seize
  The moment: pundits swoon; but I see dead,
Fierce battles "won," fields poisoned, homes destroyed, and refugees;
Lost wars and foolish trust betrayed by large and long degrees.

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2014

Note * (from William Shakespeare's Measure for Measure)

"... But man, proud man!
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence -- like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep; who with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal."

Note ** (from Spenser's introductory stanza)

"Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
   As time her taught, in lowly Shepheards weeds,
   Am now enforst a far unfitter taske,
   For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
   And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
   Whose prayses having slept in silence long,
   Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
   To blazon broad emongst her learned throng:
 Fierce warres and faithfull loues shall moralize my song."