Parvenu Charm

 This Debonair
polished somehow
What a poxy myth
Strings were pulled
Lord of all fetishes

A Debonair chap exhibiting
a wave in the hairline
A brutal jawline
A luxury tunic

A pet project
The obsession of a high class woman
She attempts humour
power in space
space in his heart

pulling the strings of so many others
smile opens, fills and withdrawls a whole account
as if it never existed

The same smile
Shaping a brand
Hiring and firing at a sexual velocity

Lord of all vanity
weaving extensions
on the woven society
Dim posh and snobbish

This debonair
standing aloof polished
the regal wooden interior
Then becoming the theater itself

Charming the all classes 
Like a beehive
Moving wills
toward the hot oven

Toasting them to the right point
and offering them as auderves to those of the matching gentry
that may just afford a chivilrous entry, to capture
to flatter and butter the swank batch, next degree in stature