Nothing Doing

Featherstrewn road's slipshod cobblestone-needs
  Gracelessly chosen: sky-high, plummeting

Granted pluralists' pose slywise indemnity,
  Fuck the trodden-upon: boot-stomp mercilessly

    Not a one of our curses can even encompass
      The malevolent means to their ill-gotten gains;
        Long-sheathed but still sharp, world-worn talons, aquiver
          Recall once, when they thrived, more alive than today