With pompous fanfare I delight those few,
To smiles and loud ovations from afar,
Who sit upon my daydream's blessed pew,
And light night's darkened pathways as the stars,

With half-truths, bland omissions, outright lies,
I paint the murals colored by success,
To cover over failures, my disguise,
And hide their idol God has yet to bless,

For had I told the truth and never lied,
Those precious few would see and nod their heads,
Acknowledge my ejection justified,
Accept their children's love for me as dead,

For any food that fails to carry taste,
Is cast aside as utter worthless waste.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos