Tea Time of the Beautiful Liar

‘A Birthday Party in honour of the Pretender’
The invitation offered as tiny diamond chips glistening on the web of the spyder
An invitation i couldn’t refuse

A rainy grey day near the Stone
And we are all in attendance of the Royal Family
Hovering and humming about a most properly laid table
beneath the canopy and pavilion

Demons and Angels exchanging what passes for wisdom in this Time
(it’s so hard to tell the difference) as it drizzles
My sigh is heavy in my chest as my heart labors up another mountain
(Sisyphus was such a sissy)

‘Why does she say stuff like that?’ my companion asks
My attention snaps back like a skier behind rocket boat
‘Stuff?’
‘Yeah, stuff. . .’

My companion teases a bit of fish with one of those new fangled. . .’
Eating things – forks – they are called forks – and this thing is called a. . .’
‘She lies, man.’
‘Oh yes, but they are the most excellent lies.’

My exasperated companion drops the eating implements
drops all pretence and says
‘Her lies won’t last.’
‘True Art never does.’
‘A thing of beauty is a treasure forever.’
‘True beauty must be transient – how else can we endure it.’

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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