Suited For The Raunch Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Tasteless!
And debasing.
Personal!
Without excuses.
And without apologies to make.

This scene is tense.
Getting hotter under the collar,
Are those doing their best...
To swallow unsweetened condiments.
As compliments once sprinkled,
Become viciously dispensed.
In an atmosphere perfumed.
With hints of assorted scents.
Yet...
Quite suited for the raunch,
Are those sitting in masquerade.
Smiling and waving to others who charade.
Lovers of smut and gutters.
Secretly hidden behind stages they bathe.
Uncensored.
Unrelenting.
In unrevealing disgusting ways.
Unprepared they are,
For the embarrassment that comes.
Outted for their misdeeds in public.
For everyone to see.
In the ballroom and on TV.
Clearly dressed in their 'tux'.
And snug fitting gowns.
With their smiles turning into frowns.
Listening but rather not hear,
Their doings done to keep smothered.
But exposed to show,
They have been willing partners...
Of a cover up below deluded noses.