Pantalone Masks
by Odin Roark

Who walks among us
noticing not the
spurious attention-lights
flooding eyelids ever open?

Such eyes peering from vacuous arrogance
remain impervious to reality’s needs,
knowing little of involuntary teardrops
that rise to cleanse pollutant messages
that so often clutter truth's path.

For those paying attention,
brazen dishonesty seeps through
the slits of glistening façade,
revealing the deceit beneath masks of enticement.

Sadly…

Political theatre is long running,
unblinking eyes staying open,
never sleeping,
forever duping wide-awake audiences
patiently waiting out expository fatigue.

Some persuade by day,
others by night,
dilated pupils made friendly
with layers of surrounding colors,
undulating caldrons of platitudes
glazing over the waiting eyes of subservience,
as persuasive voices brandish messages
onto deafened ears of acquiescence.

For nominative-masks of manipulation
are unreadable masquerades,
patronizing invitations
addressing innocence with praise,
ignorance with pandering.

Modern day Napoleons these,
ambitious eyes never closing,
vulnerable egos financially fortified,
political daredevils bungeed over slippery slopes,
preparing the next attention-grabbing-jump,
anticipating oohs and ahhs
from an electorate’s snake-oil mindset of ignorance.

And then one day…

These actors with masks,
creating minions of
somnolent followers,
furthering neither peace
nor the sanctity of breath,
become elected.

Such continues the performances
of Washington’s army of Pantalones,
its very own commedia dell’arte,
a country’s heritage,
the never-tiring masks of deception.