In Pursuit of our Painted Dreams

Nursing the last few dregs of his athletic prowess,
The aging high school phenom sullenly degenerates
Into tavern softball leagues and bar stool reminiscences.
A couple's marraige becomes a charnel house of bliss.
Like ghouls they devour each other in their prison.

On the satin sheets of their minds' voluptuous desires,
They'll embrace that lovely wanton slut of self-delusion,
Looking for reality in mirrors stolen from a fun-house.
There's none of us left with the innocence to tell them
That the Emperor's been sold another suit of new clothes.

If the incensed fists of the vice squad of reality
Could bash their way into our secret whorehouse of desire,
And shine their soul-searing beam of sudden illumination
Upon the stark naked premises of our existance,
We'd push away the painted dreams that we'd embraced.

We'd flee, bereft of our false pride, dignity's garments,
Out into the mocking laughter of a cold, disdainful world.
Our shame would become a matter of public record.
The derisive cackle of that seductive wanton, illusion,
Would echo through the night as she rifles our clothing.

Look at Teddy Roosevelt, that "big stick" wielding jingo.
He collapsed in grief when war's reality touched his soul
With the telegram that informed him of son Quentin's death,
Or Woodrow Wilson, who spent his frail health lusting
After his scantily-clad League of Nations gossamer vision.

They died physically when their illusions were wrest from them.
Most men live on, but they labor under the soul-killing burden
Of acknowledged failure.  What of we who slink away though
To hide and lick our wounds?  Does our bitter defeat quell
The lusts that send us out like dogs to sniff after dreams?

The allure of illusion is a stubborn, pervasive vice.
In the morning we'll rummage again through our mind's closet
And pull out another threadbare cloak of rationalization.
Tomorrow night we'll set out in search of another strumpet
Of self-delusion.  She'll massage our egos, pump up our pride,

And tell us the lies so necessary to our existance.