Watch Him Dance

Watch Him Dance
Phoenix B Meadows

He thinks to think apart
Is to be smart,
So he lets no facts support him.
As if they were crutches for broken wings and he must throw them to prove he can fly alone into the unknown where everyone already knows
Logic is not.

Logic is not his master,
Nor his friend.
He courts it with flowery words that drive it farther up trees
While he barks his facts
Mass produced at the manufactory of his mind.
Flawed and without reason,
Without punctuality, chivalry or equanimation to make sense of him.
It is his deflation.

A deflation of ego that he tries to correct
By blowing more hot air everywhere.
Pump it up like a balloon,
Watch it swell as you batter others into submission under your lawless logic and persistent belligerence.

No matter what he tries though,
What lies he says,
Knowing them to be just that, and nothing more,
We all can see him for what he is,
The fool.

He plays jester to the king,
Spilling out his words like golden coins,
Expecting us the leap to get them, stepping on one another in our hurry for his half-baked shit, gilded to glitter and disguise what it hides.

He dances fine, and puts on a show,
Pretending all the things he doesn’t knows.

The fool lives on forever,
Different body,
Different face,
You can find him all the same.

We watch him try to reign.

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