Only the Obscure Is Sure
Which man is ever secure,
When he’s no longer obscure
Or sticks to Normal Strife
While it’s a New World of knife
Or hangs to Clean Lifestyle
Amidst pressures from Dirty Guile
Or weird aches has none to cure
Showing that he’s been The Pure?
Who, indeed, has been intact:
A public figure, No Tact?
Who doesn’t know he can sink
Or in the limelight just shrink,
As he keeps with The Great a link,
His lips obliging Best drink …
I should in some scared chair coil
And from swift touches recoil
And with perfect anger boil,
Ordering calming whisky
For walks becoming risky,
Sure that they would my treasures loot
And as gladly poor me shoot.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
