Threnodies

Do you feel better now, or were you better then?

Though no-one dies, all I compose are threnodies
to a belle epoque that neither dawns today nor
any time I chronicle with a palimpsest
that overwrites fake news by pasting emojis 
for wake! Wake up you sinners, wake up and repent.

If we are post-truth, then what becomes of beauty?

Orange is the colour of my abuser's skin
in the morning, when he contrives to become great
and promises all incels a stake in greatness:
praise the patriarchy, pass the ammunition,
fellate the flag - this is the time we love The Beast.

Oh, but when the axis tilts, do you fall and fail
to grasp the hammer? Do you kneel and be a nail?