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Poem

If downriver a conscience sliver should make me wonder
Why in the face of challenges I should blunder
Fearing to thrive into a hope giver, preferring to pull asunder

Pangs of conscience, veering away from sticking out my neck
In case guilt should on my churlish cheek plant a peck
To denounce my façade and pronounce my person a fake protagonist, a wreck

Filled to the brim with shame
That in mundane fora I should lay claim
To an iota of virtue to redeem the name

Sunk into disrepute
As injustice and unfairness I couldn’t dispute
Despite carrying considerable clout with the ill repute

In ivory towers
Where iniquities devoured hours
Hobnobbing with gluttons who withered flowers

Decimating probity from petals of love
Whose hues and fragrance scintillated on wings of a white dove
Which couldn’t accommodate my cowardice to have

Shrunk from the centre of controversy
To the comfort of soapy sports, pleading for mercy
In the face of the moral and mental pleurisy

I felt as shame drove my sanity to the fringe
Where in comfort I could cringe
And die in shame on the binge

Where for a few pieces of silver I sold my soul
Vowing not to rock the status quo boat if I hoped to reach my goal
Wishing I could inscribe my name in gilt letters on a salvation scroll.

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