Manic for his mansion
a man of sort, a snake-oil driller, boaster
skilled at nothing, still believer
in himself, his self, a self to serve
to kneel before
Gilded heart is hiding stones
as for him
mercy isn’t manly
but cruelty is strength
compassion is the greatest weakness
in his newspeak lacking grammar,
His Midas touch
is gold-paint — late at night
a thin veneer of naught, a plastic bling, good-for-nothing art
Bullets / bullets / bullets points away
calling self and calling him
a plastic Jesus on your dashboard
and a golden calf.
Everybody is villain, an enemy or foe
except, except, those believers special
so exceptional in greatness
as it always was before.
Today we have anew form with Grace at dVerse called the descort, which is from what I understand it almost an anti-form with no consisten meter, strange rhymes and describing subjects with discords.
September 3, 2026
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Bjorn, I love the title, creative format and underlying sarcasm of the theme – both the “Midas touch” God and the “so-called believers”. Cruelty is strength and the newspeak is lacking grammar. I am laughing (sad) but its so pitiful (alas).
Thank you… yes I had fun writing it, but it is a sad world we live in.
I like the use of repetition in your poem, Björn, internal repletion too in ‘Manic for his mansion / a man of sort’, and the lines:
‘His Midas touch
is gold-paint — late at night
a thin veneer of naught, a plastic bling, good-for-nothing art’.
I think I know who this plastic Jesus is!
I think it could fit way too many, but there was someone on my mind.
If the plastic Jesus represents you know who, just set him up for me on a table ~~ going to take a few punches. Seriously, your poem tells the sad tale ~~ our world today. Bravo.