Crime & Conscience
Ah, regret.
Yes, I remember -
the discomfort that came
with those moving last words.
Such morality is priceless.
What if all of it were mine?
A wave of eloquence came on,
and I murdered him on paper.
Yes, I remember -
the discomfort that came
with those moving last words.
Such morality is priceless.
What if all of it were mine?
A wave of eloquence came on,
and I murdered him on paper.
By men of pious will and gentle hand,
With vigor was damnation's highway laid.
Remorse is mine, as av'rice doth demand.
I too have broken ground with pick and spade.
Dressed in tailored silk pathos,
he was put on display
for a room full of strangers,
who all thought he looked natural.
They bowed their heads.
I said something respectful.
We buried him in the page.
May his soul rest in peace.
he was put on display
for a room full of strangers,
who all thought he looked natural.
They bowed their heads.
I said something respectful.
We buried him in the page.
May his soul rest in peace.
As men employ the same in sowing seed,
I likewise plant reproach in fertile ground,
And to it tend with due redress of deed,
That thus might virtue sprout and growth abound.
I stole away with his diary,
set sail aboard a metaphor,
bound for sunny island paradise
just off the coast of hell.
Now I sip coconut-flavored drinks,
dangle toes in the surf,
set sail aboard a metaphor,
bound for sunny island paradise
just off the coast of hell.
Now I sip coconut-flavored drinks,
dangle toes in the surf,
plagiarize with impunity
in iambic pentameter.
The pundits say my counterfeits
are fresh and original.
For an intellectual, you see,
no effort is necessary.
in iambic pentameter.
The pundits say my counterfeits
are fresh and original.
For an intellectual, you see,
no effort is necessary.
For he shall reap naught from that earthly womb
Whose canny thought begets no honest toil.
The season'd coax what blossoms from its tomb,
Ere it forever rot in fecund soil.
Work is for the birds.
Hope you enjoy mine without me.
Feel my guilt while you're at it.
(Do let me know how that goes.)
Because I'm drowning my crimes
in this bottle of nowhere,
and I will never have to leave
while repentance still sells.
Hope you enjoy mine without me.
Feel my guilt while you're at it.
(Do let me know how that goes.)
Because I'm drowning my crimes
in this bottle of nowhere,
and I will never have to leave
while repentance still sells.
O hie me not to depths where devils loom.
Tonight I sleep, serene as splendor's bloom.
My flaws are magnificent.
Introspection is vandalism.
Beauty is what happens
when I kill time and wisdom.
Come revel in my brilliance.
Help me launder my hubris.
The stagnation is breathtaking.
People tell me it's art.
Introspection is vandalism.
Beauty is what happens
when I kill time and wisdom.
Come revel in my brilliance.
Help me launder my hubris.
The stagnation is breathtaking.
People tell me it's art.
Silver trophy winner
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
I most heartily approve of your conglomerations and conflagrations, Scribe. Most heartily, indeed. And the formatting is again, impeccable. I did a right-justified piece once. It just seemed to confuse everyone. 
Peace, Rhonda
