Thursday, February 05, 2009

Two-Way Funhouse Mirror

'For whom is the fun house fun?'
John Barthe, Lost In The Funhouse

The waddling crowd,
silver glossed uneasy smiles.
Flashes of beauty wished,
glimpse of deformity cursed.

Behind the smoke mirrored,
The beautiful and the grotesque,
disgusted and vengeful, removed by
thin silver optics fractured and twisted
by the hot sea of blank eyes.

The crowds unease builds to resentment,
In the dark, unseen disgust builds to cruelty.

Cracks spider web and universal panic spreads.

The self-proclaimed heirs to
the pre-dawn builders of mirrors,
the ambitious repairmen of all sides,
go about their quiet work unnoticed.