peach cobbler

history gets baked
leavened, over-salted
too many hands try to knead
honeyed honesty gets assaulted.

two ovens overheat
as the eggs start to hatch
rollers revolting
as the chicks peck the latch.

no master chef is summoned
as neighbors watch, they’re floored
the chaos wins, brown blood does, too
caramel lies stick to the board.

no bake sale for this saga
too few trays of truth appear
fast-food prewrapped egos;
hark these lessons, future years

no erasure, no censor
no gallant call to arms
the recipe clearly stating
on all others, render harm

a leader rules from top to under
bad smells, untruths prevail
no spine, no core beyond the term
justice bites your tail.