So smug in your professedly academic philosophies
that will not admit of anything beyond
a narrow frame of reference.

Like Plato's cave-people entranced
staring at shadow figures cavorting on a wall
Cats, dogs, rabbits, and horses, a virtual parade
of whimsies

While a puppeteer makes
hand shapes, manipulating their perception
watching the mud wall of evanescent ideas

Naming them Reality, re-framed to taste;
revisionists without a vision, wall-blinded & feeble-minded
demanding the Mister Geppettos to fabricate
whole-cloth verities that fit in your safe image

You laud them obeying in slaved lockstep,
Worshiping at the altar of their contorting concepts 

but only if it
Agrees with the moving wall-shadows

& the next fad of froth
which can be molded to fit all liars
The crowd is your god and master
Because it gloms on 
those ancient idols too