Lie berated.

Sartre,
drank coffee,
and slaughtered ancient cows,
in rows,
with crowds,
pronounced quite loud,
in Parisian bars,
tipping up vessels,
texts are wrestled and thrown to the ground,
wild theories abound,
supine,
reposed,
composed in prose,
lies are revised
and in twelve equal parts televised,
to be digested,
in portions
that we more or less shun,
lacking the tools,
submitting our details
for QVC fake jewels.