Monday, May 23, 2016

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

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
for a truth
he has no need
for you to find.

He gives you simple
for simple folks
to make you come
back for more
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.

No comments:

Post a Comment