When repenting my crimes, my life, and my sinning,
I’m often surprised by other’s distress:
Vomiting vengeance, vehemence, and vigour,
Though they’ve never lived it, I’m sure they know best.
So I’ll keep to my loves, my pleasures and glories,
Disreputable, yes. What stories they give!
Let the naysayers keep their prim picket-fences –
No matter the ending, at least I’ll have lived!
A smoky place where we can go:
In false dark voice both sweet and low,
The hostess sits, and prompts decay,
and burns the trifling hours away.
With smile as light and wide as sin,
A heart as pure as saccharin –
Though you’ve just met, she clings you close:
She’s more sincere than sucralose;
Coffee, gossip unrestrained
(with vitriol and aspartame).
And as the noiseless months slip by,
You’ll smoke until your veins run dry,
Then you’ll get your allotted dose –
(Though all are Equal, she’s the most)
You’ll take your turn to feel her hate,
She’ll spare neither beat nor cane,
The woman built from aspartame.
©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved