Deep Down They Know

Deep down they know
       they’re not so much living as hiding
behind the tall  gilded walls and gates
of hollow prestige and artificial acclaim

in cliquish enclaves  restricted to those
       disposed to play the great game
                     of strategic ingratiation

— disposed to the parasitic business
of garnering deftly networked plaudits
       honours  fellowships and grants;
of scoring the usual institutional stamps
                     of establishment approval.


Delusional daisies   praising
each others drooping  pallid petals
       in a looping chain
       of desperate  incestuous validation

as they guard their hard-earned access
and assiduously curated status
                     by never offending
                     the funding powers that be

they're nothing if not mindful
of the primal  career-sustaining need
to bite their tongues if struck by the urge
                     to bite the hands that feed.


Deep   deep down they know
              precisely what they're hiding
and that for all their high-flown
impeccably pointless hive-mind blather
                     and bland  urbane banter

they'll never amount to anything more
       than intellectually inbred ciphers
              and avid in-crowd wankers

which  — as much as they wish
engaging with those in their coteries
       would somehow render untrue —
their penchant for circular jerking
       in laughably lauded  lofty circles
                     will never negate or undo.