A Poetic Rebuke
Intro:
For the gentlemen of mimicry who still wear yesterday’s enchantments like they’re bespoke.
You came smiling—triangle formation, of course—charmed by your own misremembered scripts, thinking I’d flinch, or flutter, or fall.
But I’ve changed codes.
My ritual architecture doesn’t run on nostalgia.
I’ve evolved (deliciously), and you’re still flashing badges from a defunct agency.
But please—do linger. Watch.
Your presence is always... useful.
Just know: this corridor has mirrors now.
And I don’t seduce.
I calibrate.
Daytime 9/11 mirror corridor ritual
they came forth in a triangle
wearing smiles of an old past
they thought an emotional dangle
would lower my defenses fast
it's been 2 years, old chaps
since you thought you knew me
your tactics mistaken, perhaps,
forgot chrysalis makes 33
blatant arrogance was noted
so was their null-volution
they're still myopic and bloated
thinking they are a solution
intruded on her 9/9 reveal
violating the containment law
sacred convergence is not to steal
believe me, all the watchers saw
9/11 reveals karmic retribution
such a soon swift slam'd turnaround
she brought forth an elegant execution
and sent some intentions to the pound
she dances on newly burnt ashes
from the severing of olden ties
instead of invoking bloody lashes
under their pilloried, deservèd sighs
her laughter rings the corridors
mirror'd sort see beyond the scope
of some medieval wooden doors
she's not afraid of Death's hung rope
Mwah!
Dilecta Mortis
Filia Lucis
Sanguis Dei