5

For the women entertainers of the old west
Those who entertained women in the absence
Of that dark glass in which so-called whackers
And smoothers of multi-sampled cellulite are
Caught reflecting on four letter bombs despatched
Into the vortices of their fabulous leggings there
Remains a revolving wheel of social ambiguity
Navigated with a dedicated care. For them the
Working life remains one of skilled deportment
Marked by honest submission, cheap amusement
And the paradigmatic sufferance of dominant
Notions of what an entertainment could be
Considered, by their master-clients, to provide.
Devotion, being men-shaped, danced their side

(generated from the first google search result for the phrase 'gilded by girls')

<<<

27

Great gals gone west
into millions of sunsets, claiming "absence
my presence is, strangeness my grace", as whackers
and knackers, sad slackers, court packers and vatic pragmatics are
with axes and tumbrils, old agues and age, all adroitly despatched,
amid armies of leggings, earrings of ice, there
there is felt a nice nostalgia for ambiguity.
One thing's for sure - the
sub-basement deportment
department's not there for your bloody idle amusement.
Mother Teresa, Peggy Sue? They're all deported, Helen too. The dominant
is melancholy, and not by subs or doms or four-letter bombs can I be
comforted. "Entertainment" you call it? Yes, and "God will provide."
Sure! We'll all sleep easy on the other side.

(Echoing the end-words of node 5)