The Strumpet Trumpet

On strumpet feet,

astride of resonant amazement

across all logic,

the Trumpeter

tunes us

to blow his horn,

filling him so much

with what he gets

us to swallow.

And we put out

for his privilege

to spout

all of his coming

madness.

And there's no telling

what he's selling

for his package

is the product,

chuck full

of no doubt

and no need

for questions

that you might be

thinking,

for a truth

he has no need

for you to find.

He gives you simple

strokes

for simple folks

to make you come

back for more

assurance.

And so you're hooked

to keep on buying

his sweetly creamed

balm, guaranteed

to wrap yourself

away in,

holding back

the fevered dreams

that someone might be

sleeping us away

from ever wanting

any more

to really know.

And now that you dance

to his numbing trance

there is one truth

where there is no doubt

who will be made

to pay the piper.