woe woven,
some earth wrought might
perhaps
better left in spite,
yet, tonight,
set forth in brewing
brooding overtures,
counsel abandoned 
aside,
the temporary sycophantic 
designed, wickedly,
for truth bearing
the 
pragmatic size-up
shy enough to
spy
on all the wayward
worries
lost, and, still
incurring
debts
of no measly portion,
aligned 
and all contorted to
better bend the
view,
distilled and skewed,
oh, that soothing mood of
chaos,
painted to praise
us,
with blade stashed plain
in hiding,
the wide unwinding 
vs.
the narrow all
knowing,
the ode of the
reluctant showman,
just 
dying here to
live.