R ~ Hypocrisy house

In the hall where the light was honeyed
by musty glass, and picked out the weave
on the design of the tiles, the Reverend
was accused of being greedy for money
by the principle man in a chain of corporation

Who, in the painted parlour
that stung our noses blind
was attacked for fouling the air
by a perfumed, cigar smoking rogue

Who, in the vanilla aroma of the bar
where men drank to their despair
was branded snidely antisocial
by a reclusive fantasist and writer

Who, in the dust and varnish of the study
between volumes of verse
was silently labelled a geek
by a grim science fiction fanatic

Who, in the smoke-stained lounge
entombed by luxury
was declared an obsessive
by the flag-faced football supporter

Who, outside on the mown lawn
where acid lingered in the beds
was unmasked as no more than a sheep
by a girl adorned in the most recent fashion

Who, in the sterile bedroom
where she was promptly seduced
was told she was a simple sap
by a devoted Conservative voter

The master, the master
of this house that is a secret map of a country
any country
Well, this master, who is I, the poet
Who watched them through close circuit television
which he knelt before, was delighted
that these poor, pathetic men and women
couldn't help but pry, and prise
and worshipped each other's flaws devoutly