Our Father Who Art In Heaven - Keep It Down!

The world has never met a more hilarious man.
To see the world through as narrow a vision as he,
Even through spectacled eyes clear and cleaned so meticulously,
His vision jaded by newspaper reels -
Scaremongered by disenchanted stories,
The fires fuelled within the small factory;
Within which lies his office,
Penned in behind a large black desk,
There he sits - trapped,
Inebriated by horror stories of heroin,
He struggles with the four-piece puzzle,
Forcing the pieces together, He sees;
An image not seen by any man before,
As it burns into his mind,
His lips curl under and;
The grip on his palm tightens:
Salivation control slackens -
As he dribbles and splashes his fury,
Only he has seen the truth,
And upon a threatening stance,
He will aggressively defend his hill;
A mountain - So high and mighty!
To see it would be to double at the knees:
Begging for saviour from our jaded oracle,
He who can see with unclouded vision;
A vision so astute: the twenty-twenty -
jaws would drop in awe,
It cannot be seen what he sees,
All other eyes hazy with the first-hand,
Glaze of the contemptible world beneath his hill.
Attempts to climb this hill:
A mountain of pomp and misinformation,
Fail as his foes fall through,
Cracks in his world -
Filter through nightmarish dreams,
Of his make-believe reality;
Pathways paved with misinformation,
Built upon with the subsequent,
Absurdity of lies that follow.
His mind rolls over back to one again.
Poison is what he preaches;
Words and views encapsulate all ears -
That dare hear like shackles,
Dragging souls down into the monotony,
Repetition and monotony,
Repeating with monotonous overtures;
What he conjured up in his world,
Spreading his half-truthed manure,
Over new times and time again.
Behind the walls of his factory,
Past machines pumping out slop -
To the dull weak whir of rusted cogs,
Up iron stairs just holding under foot;
To an office populated by only,
By an ebony desk pulled into;
The corner far,
There cowers the foetal oracle,
Upon a bed of newspaper,
Rage in his eyes,
Lies spew from the man,
Fuelled on lies.