See the man of sober pleasure
Decked in splendor.
Wedded to conventionality.
He loves all that he sees.
Strolling down easy street,
One hand in pocket
The other swaying to inner rhythms.
Plump belly resting on curved spine.
At the office,
With wife packed sacked lunch,
Speaking to underlings
With polite blistering condescension.
Sober pleasures,
In the choir,
Glorifying in sober pleasures.
Glorifying in sober death.
Leisurely Sundays,
Dressed by sober wife.
Infested with two-faced love.
The novice green blinds their minds.
Behold their inane glory.
The glory of the paycheck.
Look upon the witless
And shudder.
No comments:
Post a Comment