Uproar.

There, my hapless harbinger,
in vain, you rationalize with me;
over sips of honest Darjeeling,
toasting obvious mediocrity.

So tonight, lets join the gathering,
thats where we're expected least;
for riot will assume confidence,
leaving precedence to patently cease.

But you, for one, are unannounced,
much receding from all worries;
a sip from me and the vase is dry,
with you playing the galleries.

Stammer, but don't hum along,
my discontent isn't disquiet,
its not as if I'm second fiddle;
murmuring selfless, this satire.

Let clamor settle before the waltz,
an inch within pin drop,
for you will grab unspoken envy,
in revelry - take it from the top.

I'm much pickled too, you know,
such melee can make pretend;
and violence wearily stagnates,
three sheets to the rustling wind.

Ah, those forgotten salad days,
another muddled, hackneyed excuse;
but tonight, they'll have none of it,
or of our few eccentric views.

And that is what we always were,
a dusting case study on disarray;
and they'd criticize, all spineless,
such was the order of that day,