The Snake Charmer, A poem

The Snake Charmer
By: Kit Carson

There is a certain gift bestowed.
The masses naught see it lest,
they who hear it willingly jest.
Off to then pursue the rest.
The gift that's given quite the best.

Much like the snake charmer,
do I possess the talent,
to sway the savage beast.
The flute he waves,
makes all the snakes rave,
hidden in my speech.



I sway the minds of people.
Bring them to my cause,
willingly the men do follow,
blindly, For the cause!

Must I always be weary,
of the deeds of lesser men.
Whose acts are often leery,
and fear my fountain pen.

The silver tongue I'm gifted,
will quite often be found,
in the heads of those less gifted,
and who seek out for leaders proud.

When at last I soar out,
into beautiful flight.
The hoards of old enemies,
surely will take fright.
For fear that I shall return in spite.
With doubled might,
in the black of night.

I'll pay them a visit,
one cold lonely night.
Take have a drink,
and share a bite.
In-spite of the their fears,
my incredulous right.
I'll spare them all,
do what is right.

For the gift of my tongue,
my greatest might.
Most never needed,
the blunt brute knife.
But now stay the fire
of fear and blight.

Then to reunite,
for truer, more bolder,
Men, before I,
have said better bolder,
words than dear I.

The gift of glorious speech.
To naught be traded for anything else;
Nor ever wanted to be.