freedom is
an absurd grandiloquence
scribbled by a poet of Pretense (me).
freedom and all its very tall comrades
slide glistening off the tongue
with grotesque and sophistical
ease.
and what an irony
that we (poets of Pretense)
will quibble with vigour
over the fluidities of language
and how to define ‘sardonic’
while that grandiosity
with a false face,
its only face,
inscribed by arrogant quivering pupils
mocks us,
sardonic.