Monday, September 3, 2012


Plato's got nothin on you, Sir
you with such need to be seen
waving from a paper tower
and that only,
so you can look away

they bathe in your feet
these star struck pupils
while you spin Emerson
and Whitman in chambers
that echo like your soul

up to the gods you call
saying, send down the light!
and this for your gather and dispense
for the plebeians, they must be fed!

and bite they do, these fish
all pooled, while taking care
not to notice the line
while swallowing the bait

you who scratch wisdom's beard
and confer with the mighty oak
while teaching rivers which
way to swim-
are full of shit

from up on high
you bang your fist
and bellow, clarity!
clarity! and more clarity!
to your subjects

but the darkness runs deep
and the webs, they do spread
when night comes to call
in the hollow of the day

and the voices you hear
the ones you reject
speak a truth
in shades just between
creation and reality

now i watch the parade
and you in your coach
while obeisance is slathered
from those on the stringer

and i say in a whisper
with a sad knowing smile
the emperor
has no clothes