Hitting life's golf holes,
Struggling to score vague goals,
Forgot, he'd a soul.
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A wrinkled brown leaf
And a dewdrop on the edge,
Hanging on to leaf,
Muse on life ever so brief,
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To love in fear is to go reverse gear,
If such be thine love dear, I might well doubt
You love— the twain is no one to one peer,
And pray, make not that pout a beauty's clout.
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A child when with fewer answers I had,
And more of question on my mind's grey plates,
Mysteries multiplied like a wild fad,
Tell Me Why and How my more loyal mates.
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Baddies come no bagful all of bad,
Nor goodies always make our heart glad,
World is a mix of picks,
Caresses come with kicks,
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A man when wants to kill
A tiger, it's for thrill,
Thinks, he's playing a game—
Game, whatso be the name,
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Ever since he evolved from apes sans pause,
Man has the trivial chased more than the root—
And has tailed everything except right cause—
Thanks to his frailty for low-hanging fruit.
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Some make no bones about bigotry,
Some claim no racist bone in body,
Moving with seamless bliss
Scarce do they heart beat miss,
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They scarce blink, but their bones do feel bad
About this new democratic fad,
About their callous heart,
Their political art,
...
Outgoes seem with incomes to nurse grouse,
One has handsome outlook,
The ‘ther no breach can brook,
Breasts as feel frustrate, confined in-house,
...