All the Hoopla

Lost in cozened, laughter
still cheering, still hearing the ting
of goblets raised and met.
The true hero is absent
as conscience flees histories spirit
distraught with warm ambition.
Honesty tangles in galleries of thought,
shard in cubist moonlight,
washed in shadows of war stained wonder, where
Social justice weaves discourse, and
sincerity doubles as corruption.
They've earned their dignity
boasting, bootlick flattery,
a backslap jam, a cakewalk dance on water.
Laughter pleads rejuvenation
from ignorance blessed by deceit.
Unconscious hoopla searches recovery
from moral blasphemy regressing humanity
that one day find its course
as nighttime falls upon reality, and
the spirit of a dream once cherished
is painted off as orange coconuts
served at Gatsby's dinner party.