POETRY: MASQUERADING BY PAUL TRISTRAM

Of course the art of it lays in perfect imitation.

Dedicating hours to the mirror,

rehearsing a troubled look of ‘feelings’

would be an absolute daunting agony

if it wasn’t for the interruption of hysterical laughter.

Then there’s the zoning out…

into the standing ovation and applause…

ripping yourself backwards out of the warmth

and glory of that natural contemplation.

To once again, for the umpteenth time today,

slowly form, that delicate and pathetic ‘Boo-boo lip’.

You’ll have them wrapped around your little finger

when you reveal this latest masterpiece.

Those tears could be real and flowing properly,

if she would only take a good look inside

to the inadequacy and insecurity

which are the foundations of her weak, hidden soul.

But home truths are ugly and for losers,

whilst external adulation is the shallowest and bestest

kind of satisfied mind, cleverness is deceptiveness

and the narcissistic show must endlessly go on.

Written by Paul Tristram

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