‘Beneath the Mask’ and Other Poetry by Rick Blum The Society November 24, 2015 Humor, Poetry Beneath the Mask Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth. -Oscar Wilde A mask is worn to hide one’s face from the surly light of day but if you open up your mind, you’ll see masks another way Zorro donned black mask and cape, disguised in cowboy chic-ness Superman, with chiseled jaw, hid behind his meekness Mascara is a kind of mask, designed to cloak eyelashes it’s often laded-on to lure a hunky guy who mashes Macho men feel masculine, pecs oiled to a gleam though mostly it describes a ruse to veil low self-esteem Masking tape is man’s best friend, protecting precious borders it’s not too sticky, tears with ease, just what the paint doc orders When a clerk hears Where’s damask? from a lady prone to preen he knows she seeks the fabric aisle, not stuff for Halloween A masquerade’s a fancy dance of character inventions and a foul façade to hide a soul of sinister intentions Chief Masconomet never wore a mask as far as we can tell unlike the Iroquois who thought wood ones would make them well A mascot is a sprite team pet, contrived to bring good luck too often played by carefree coeds, prone to run amuck So now, you see, to find a mask you needn’t be a sleuth they’re everywhere you dare to look, and that’s the unmasked truth © Rick Blum 2014 True Intentions She hit me, hard, as I passed by, I never saw it coming; had no time to dodge the blow, before meekly succumbing. She misconstrued my rapid blink, jumped to the wrong conclusion, then rammed me in my blinded side leaving a huge contusion. Quickly grasping her gross mistake, she begged forgiveness right away. I only saw the pain ahead, long weeks of disarray. The cops, of course, soon appeared, grilled us both before departing. We then limped off to lick our wounds, crushed egos loudly smarting. My signal was unambiguous: I plan to take a right. She thought that I meant right now, but I meant at the light. Hard lesson it was for me to learn, but one I’ll ever trust: when divulging one’s true intentions, act fast or you’ll get crushed. © Rick Blum 2015 Featured Image: “Masked Ball in the Hoftheater” by Jakob Rousseau Related Post ‘Sing Me Not’ by Oliver Mort Goddess, sing me not, that barbaric yawp of man’s puny sorrows. He wants to swap his countless ills, not go down to Hades. The dogs and vultures wa... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.