Conspiracy

Words conspire with each other 

And devise a vilest plot ever—

To pencil some faux poems

And emboss them with a heart

On the empty scrolls of minds

Of one and many a soul

Nothing but a motley of poems

Crocheted with tall tales of femme fatales 
And beauteous balls and bards

Of the human world and heaven

And many a thing obvious 

And yet wrought in oblivion

PS: An old poem from my virtually forgotten oeuvre.