Beware of prophets
with pencil and paper,
lower case amulets
worn like a charm,
dangling lures, shiny
nothing up their sleeves

Phrase-like indulgence
plastered on street lights,
counted and numbered,
scratched below the surface,
slight of hand gestures
tickling termites and maggots,
off shoots of decency

Dramatic detachments
re-glued and fastened,
revolving exits doors
spun out of control

Now you see me,
now you don’t
Abracadabra, like magic
in the hands of cheerleaders,
in the hearts of followers,
in the pockets of prophets,
in the end, the kool aid,
the cliff,
the disappearance

Hocus pocus
and they all fall down
into an abyss
of hypocrisy