Revival of the Ghost in the Age of Irrelevance
Alan Lisanti
Senor Dupin wears your wool
Senor Dupin where's your wool
Play detective for the fools
Undetected like the muse
I want to wear your flesh
Like the gloves
That render their fingerprints
Untraceable
They have bent you to a clayish mold
While you fire off revelations told
With widened eyes
And conflicted soul
When all you've ever known
Was just their trail of breadcrumbs
Leading you away from culprits
That drip their guilt from head to toe
Proclaim innocence once you crack the code
In your mind the guilty hung like
Freshly rotted meat
While the flies swarm like feeble moths
In the luminescence of the carcass
And you emptied your lungs
At the frenzied crowd below
"Free" words of condemnation
Now scurry in panic to cite evidence
Not just a portion of your own perception
As you hunt for something tangible
So certain that you're certain
There's a library of lies for those
Who discard reality for the vice grip
Of guided imaginations
Senor Dupin consumed the rouse
At will and they learned
Nothing need be forced
By the hands of these cohorts of contortion
No one need be coerced into
Compliance or resistance
The lamb dressed like the wolf
Will volunteer cooperation
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