Socialite evenings

Many roses would profane no one

Love shall rule the soul as thought one

Like an alien idea synthesizing on the flute

She hymned the symphony of the brute

There lived the God as sung by the nun

Or relatively it was the music for fun

The sumptuous fat man cheered in the room

The socialite nibbling at fortune plumed her hair

Siphoned the lady in corset, she has wings

All that comes naught to none

She sang another hymn and thought about someone

This is the work of man who knows the beast

The jocular man was priest who has married the daughter of the elf

In all these were the figurines of  socialite feasts

The society churns another battle for the artist

Who paints the lady in red and forgets the crown on her head

Or walks among the dead instead.









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