Author: David Wright

SKIMP stones across the pond and bridge will fall,
GLEAN skulls from graveyard and heads will grin,
PAYEE on life’s checks will be forgotten, checks will moulder,
BRAVO for any grace that counters entropy.

HARRY me with words for DQP such as
COLON? Tis like Delilah’s
SHEARs: My imagination’s strength fails me, not even
LARVAL now, no longer dreaming of a future of flight.

ULCER, from too much stress.
APNEA, from pounds put on by too much
CANDY, from too much craving.
ADULT life is not simple–the weight of all our choices drags us down.

CLONEd thoughts, skin deep, high on
SKUNK weed, drunk on surfaces,
SWEPT along by Zeitgeist,
SASSY to the max in the Age of Attitude.

TRACT: in black and white, beliefs simplified to black and white.
PREEN, proclaim a perspicacity possessed by none.
BUDGE? Never. The self is the self’s proclamation, a self heedless of
SNARE posed by opinion bent into worship.

HONEYed words and
CYNIC’s thoughts
DAUNT: is there good faith? Or is it all the
CHIRP, the social payload, barbed wire between us and our neighbors.

CRYPTic visions as he stands in corner,
DUNCE capped, and held of no account:
WHEEL will turn. One day. He will be known as
NOBLE. Except in this town, to these classmates.

PRINT. What he said, the
VICAR, that God has laws, is portrayed as a
GAFFE. He had also said that God is loving. but laws do not s’il leur
PLAIT. God is only permitted to be one thing.

PUSHY–I grow more so.
GRIPEs–I have more than before.
BLOAT–it besets me. The more my
ASSETs grow, the less content I am.