A TILT IN A MEDICINE CABINET MIRROR

How to for here can we follow what's far
if an ordinance port ain scullery gallows
are credulous offers for flowerist fellows
does it not ask us to winsome and tired
for collaring boarders who don't pay ashored
wise despite pocketlinings be dusted
with more'n'copper most times?

How to then can we look elsewise
lest offering newly mint promissories?
The secreted tryth trust in which we
become fussed became the blind fold
worn mostly from lust and determinism
followed the vectors of hollow eyed
lined-ups, wellwishing a departure

or falling right out from the locally
advertised directional flow those
in the know secrete from the go
and off they went well spent gents
and lissome ladies freed of mental
leashes whose eyes discreet perceive
the walls of the halls are not tall,

all it takes is a minor jump and
a fall from which meadowgrass
can we brushed and abandon
the rush, the sprawl contains
all while the blind in loose moon's
capture shacklechained in their
rosary games genuflect in some

royalgeneric name to expedite
a sigilkey where there's no need
to throw away once forgotten
soon evaporated so repetition
cements a lockjaw step with
a nation of geese all too pleased
to meander to the slaughter

not even dimly aware of the fodder
they fear to be daughtered by,
the father they're queer for,
the lamb of the lot, to be tested
and nether wrought for another
distressed of a feather needed
to ballast an elegant weather,

well I'm afraid not he hollered
at her, in fact they'd rather remain
slaves and shunned was the nexus
between their inspections where
only disapproval was won in the
face of it on the worn away faces
where worn away lies the expression

mostly noted for deception,
the honest inquestioning why.
Suffice it to be said some know
ledge is not meant to be fed
to one another the point of the
matter to let such things grow
wild is lost on a people that

belong to a nation besotted
with overtures of predatory
pain and addiction, pining for
a sorrow so long ago forgotten,
shaping our tomorrow from
something so rotten, welcome
to the compost heap of old dreams.

It was always the dreaming itself,
not the dreamed that brought us
to the vision that is currently seen
depreciating in the rearview of the
diminishing road, solid as a carbon
figure about to explode, iconoclast
construction all set to corrode.

The corruption of the empire.
Vampiric spiritual tyranny.
Steering empirical mirrors.
One tilt and a grinning
comes into view. Even
though you weren't looking,
guess who?