Catalogue Of Lies

You! I challenge you to your wits!
If not your wits, then I challenge your speech,
And if you will not speak, I won’t too;
For I shall challenge your silence instead,
Watch you bequeath your glory to me
And rise: a better spectre of myself.

I swindle and I speak with flatulence,
Unwavering avarice injects my judgment,
A pill from the churning institutions,
If I may so venture – a device to an end.
Armed thus, I charge for a burning peak
And disrupt your ambitious little streak.

So, listen! Listen to my ostentatious tongue:
Spewing books, you have never read,
Tales, you have never heard
And see my filtered photographs too,
Of places, you will never visit
And treats you will never eat.

And so, wither; wither into your lowly shell,
As I strike upon you, your timid grace:
Know no shawl of fortune and yet,
You challenge me in buzzing streets?
I shall strike your name off this page
And make it mine too, begone!

Begone! Leave this palace and go,
Away with your glamour less clothes,
A mimic of a true artist’s realm,
You’re ancient, just a speck today.
I will warp you out of this world
And take your place as the One!

Guide this closure to its own end
And cloak myself in ruby red,
Paint the sky in gold and green
And put every thinking man to sleep.
For I am your own catalogue of lies,
And I shall conquer the sparkle in your eyes.