Something happened here before you were born,
Predictor of disorient and scorn;
So like the hound that sniffs out traces left
Of fugitive or swag to intercept,
Forget the mindless sleep from which you're torn
And face the awful remnants of the morn.
What carnival of night is wreckage now
That metal bolt would seal in rooms befouled;
Who locked the door and threw away the key,
And why did they determine it should be?
Whose sins are buried in this tangled frame;
Who lies a lie to shield a famous name?
Why build this construction and draft its scheme
To daunt the dull and wicked with a theme?
Consider these while here and there you go
As we assess the crusts of what you know,
Leftover from the appetite you sate,
For heaps of flesh and blood upon a plate,
A bit of quid pro quo to spice a game
Of which of Batman's villains can you name?
Some trivia we'll get to soon enough
That unlocks locks and panels when it's rough:
A bladed pendulum approaching near
Or poison trickling into Hamlet's ear,
The sand accumulating in a glass
Like numbskulls at the back of teacher's class.
So, try to make out every phrase for once
Not only gloss the pictures and be done.
For instance, it's the VESTIBULE you're in,
And all you need to enter is a PIN:
The which of comic villains we might be
Who poses punnish questions on a spree.
Hereafter every page requires a code
To activate a link in this abode;
Should we mention you might also make a map,
Or suit yourself--we wouldn't want to sap
Your patience with these puzzles for the brain:
The Interwebs are packed with antic games
And this just one upon the busy heap,
A writhe of flashing lights and flapping wings,
That shouldn't want to make you think a thing,
Flibbertigibbet you. And this recalls
A final word before we see you off,
A coy apology for clumsy form
Of rhymes in second person 'til you squirm.
We wouldn't ordinarily compose
In other than a blank and pristine prose
Or tire the captive reader with the kind
Presuming he's the subject of each line.
Let's write this for a culture meted out
By Comcast, Fox, and advertising clout
And be no ingenue pretending not
To know the single reader that we've got,
Who likes a leering verse whose subject be
A twisted gothic starring "Me! Me! Me!"