mr. fallusy

I like to take your argument
and set it on fire
in the shape of a man
- it's an effigy.
And you're always surprised
since your argument was
made of bricks! With an iddy
biddy piggy inside, well
it goes to show
that you can't
trust me.

Better hide,
I'm a horrible
man, crying wolfish tears
at the shape I am in, under
foolish moon. Someone bit
me once, I was harmed
and I never got well
from that magical wound.
That is hardly my fault
after all of this
- what and who I am,
plus the character that
I clearly have - you conclude
you cannot trust a thing
I say! Let alone what I'm doing
from push to shove, from better
to just plain bad.

You'd be wrong, to conclude
such a thing. But perhaps
you'd be better that way.

I have taken your stance,
I have tilted the slippery ground
where you tried to plant, and I pushed
and I shoved you down hard. You are
sliding now, so far - the abyss
is about to frown
when you land
right smack
in its unblinking eye!
Which you couldn't have missed. Oh
well. You should have faced front
as you slid and fell down that slippery
cliff, or bluff perhaps? Could've stared
it down, made it blink just once
or twice, at the light from the sky,
through which you come crashing in?

But why?

Who can say. I have given you
so much to know, and uneasily
down. I have taken the highest authority,
I have hung strict quotes from its awful nose,
I have taken what ignorance proves

quite free, and clear, and you'd better
believe it shows.
If you wish, you can call
mister fallacy.
That's me. Better spell it
'phallusy' though,
'cause I'm really a dick. Informality
is a charming style, if you can

pull it off. Sometimes you can't tell
if you have or have not, with such
see-through clothes. Well,

you work with whatever
you may have got.