Rascality Poem by Chris Jibero

Wandering in the broadway of waywardness
Due to self-inflicted blindness
Elicited by the effervescence of youthful madness
Power with wealth is his predilection
Trusting wholeheartedly in his calculation
Sold in his breath-taking assumption
A large but empty postulation
He sets off on a voyage of promotion
Not paying heed to the little voice behind
Fervently calling him to order
An angel like his mother
Fashioned for his benefit from his rib
And stationed at his crib

Now on his return journey
After losing the much touted tourney
With no gold, silver nor bronze ware to show
But flustered and floundering
Covered with dust and mud
From his soles to his crown
Adorned with scars of profligacy
Muddled up in the stinking slime of obduracy
And painted with the tar brush of lunacy
Huge dividends and paycheques of rascality
He licks his wound with humility
And bears his cross with equanimity
Deserted by his yet unlearning co-travellers
Amateur pugilists far spent in shadowboxing
Still thinking they will excel by time-wasting.

(c) Chris Jibero.