POETIC WAX by Tom Jensen
Ideological trappings by mastery of the means
Hiding the islands now approaching the size and scale of the sea
With candle wax in their eyes
They rose like trout
The gladiators of the quill
All fell ill
As with closed-mouth zeal
They discovered the dormant genius
By way of the slippery verbiage
Of another
A smug bumbler
My most ablest aide
No provincial bumpkin
But a born crusader
Unveiled in this convoluted saga
In which autodidacts
Squeeze tightly over their reigns
While fletching ladies promenade
By way of the contracted receptacles of bigotry
Flout the odious past the drunken sage
Living room forums were held on principle grounds
While conscripts hid in the sand
Those subtle rascals all went underground
History can be murdered by the moral majority
Or by just an army of one if it is extemporaneously allowed…
As they say if the peg hole fits then place in it the proper dowel
So smoothly did they lay on the flattery as if with a trowel
It was an assault from the inside
Within one’s own direct complicity
Sinister plotters now return to their labyrinth of fancy layers
Since crime, once exposed, has no refuge except in audacity
The destruction was mutual
In this phased out withdrawal
Offering protection from contagion
But hey… may God bless us all!