qui tacet consentire videtur

Who wants suppression, of our hearts and minds,

To herd a throng assaulted?

Sheep fit to bleat such that all one finds

Is oppression, exalted?

Open their heads and then probe inside

And gasp at the lacuna.

You’ll find, not affairs that rise like any tide:

Vamped Fortuna.

When they run astray, when their passion is all spent

Context is absurd, not the Go;

When he who is silent seems to shrug and feign consent

The strongest word is, until Doomsday, “No.”