Postmodern Nostalgia
A covert curtain raiser pulls a string and marvels at an epic scene
Though parsimonious in essence the stage appears rather obscene
Black cross and pitch dark raven on bold charcoal sable tapestry
Ragged clairvoyant who twiddles cross bones by Caron's decree
The program had promised naked clarity and seductive treats
But now no bodies couple on the wooden floor in satin sheets
The truth however fresh from history's and other sad cohabitation
Sours moist appetites and threatens voyeuristic contemplation
A simple box white as true innocence depicts death's surrender
Rusty nails large as serrated daggers stick out of wood and tender
For anyone's guess as to who holds the moribund mortal keys
And for what the final will and wish decides to bequeath
Maybe the dramatist shows kindness after the transmission
Once champagne flutes held council in one last rendition
For when audiences in deck chairs recline on the Titanic
But the fool's vessel succumbs even when Satan is manic
Spectators wait on fleshy bums for anything to be told and relieve
The grandstand platform from misery far too mournful to conceive
But while the actors carry on with epilogues and future insanity
There is no second act and no dress rehearsal for humanity
10th April 2020
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2020
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