Eyes and Teeth for Sale

I hear your words, do note that I hear them

Well. Well enough to disprove them. Outside

Your hands reach high, further than any priests,

Your smile extends from cheek to cheek, your fair

Dimples can be seen from the farthest eyes

In space, if you can believe it. Such truths

That you speak, such wisdom to be heard by

Anyone who stands to listen to them;

Preaching, as though commissioned by God him

Self to save these poor unfortunate souls.

Who would not benefit from such advice?

The likes of which is rare, like the spice of

India when first Columbus sailed round

The earth to obtain them for his great queen.

Such a feat is worthily done, worthy

Of praise even, provided that praise is

Not ill spent upon a cad, some dung heap

Dressed as a technicolor dream, a fraud

One that would sooner rob you blind than to

Deliver his fair promise. And a fair

Promise is what you have trumpeted, far

And wide, to the farthest reaches of the

Earth and back again to where you stand; such

A display as was never seen by man

Yet. Yet such display, though grandly done, such

Pomp and air, such surface values will not

Suffice when you have obtained your card; Your

Pass. For words are true, true of your intents,

Made clear by your actions past, your every

Move up until this point, this dot in time,

Have confirmed my nagging suspicions that

You are no true prophet, no savior;

You smile at me, through the crowd, knowing my

Thoughts, for we were once friends long ago. Now

We carry knives for words, guns for actions,

Weapons of Mass Destruction for our last

Stand against those that oppose us. How can

We have come to be so different?

What did we do wrong, that we should hate each

Other's ways, smile for publicity sake,

Why? In God's name why? How could you betray

Our friendship, destroy our love, commit your

Very self to mammon's governance, how?

Through this crowd I hope my looks convey, as

Yours did to me, this deep sense of betray

Al that your looks afforded to me....

Eyes and Teeth for Sale, (c) By Luke Bennette

A Note about the piece, notice that the end line has only nine syllables, as though there were more to come. Recognize that such thoughts are never the last words, never can be completely at an end, that such modes of thought will inevitably end in humility of self, or death of humiliation for another. We all want to be right, each thinking he knows better. Inevitably, only time will tell whether or not we've been so clever.