Classic Poem

So much for the politics of the Fronts and Backs
(It's not our business to clobber the world's cracks)!
A sunburst of diamonds can attract our stare,
Not the extinct paste splashing the hennaed hair
Of a vaudeville empress, the mortgaged splendour hit
With death-dues, not the jazz-bred aristocrat —
That is the refuse of the pawnshop. That
Can be left in the gutter to hold out its hat.
As said by Flaubert, it had not the animal will
To hold what it had got — now it can only sell
Others, having long ago lost its own,
While seven-figure barons guard the Throne.
All that was once stood for by the crowned great,
Glitters in the eyeballs of the Third Estate —
We must look for leaders anywhere but in
The crapulous remnants of the " Upper Ten".
Under these circumstances, Citizeness,
And Citizen, let us bolster up the face
Of the debacked chaotic Time-temple of unorthodoxy.
Let us run in and instruct the unbusy bee
With a few simple dithyrambs, and then
Shout out a warning to all intelligent men!