Eleven Deadly Sins

I advocate broad changes, You agreed
With almost none of my suggestions, claimed
That everything was just fine, and you blamed
Disgruntled architects, a bitter breed,
For socialism, fear, sloth, lust, and greed.
At least eleven deadly sins were named,
Five clowns were silenced, no one was ashamed,
And someone asked the Pope to intercede.

I have no leisure: I'll repent in haste,
My extra time spent on a sucking grief
Suspending everything but disbelief.
I gave religion up for Lent, and faced
A stagnant cosmos, and a world of waste.
I advocate broad change. You are a thief.

Hope Is Reality

Though hardly anybody saw me act
The ones who did kept trying to expand
My budding stage career, to lend a hand,
Propel me to where fantasy is fact,
Hope is reality, honours are stacked
Like pyramid stones, to the very sky.
I was the gleam in my producer's eye,
Fulfilment of the dream, until it cracked.

I gained command of thespian technique,
Such knowledge, so encyclopedian,
I was the world's greatest tragedian,
But now what's left? Just one remaining peak,
The only satisfaction I still seek:
To end my days as a comedian.

A Real Philosophy

You don't already know the answer? Guess.
If you can't understand what you can't see,
Pretend you have a real philosophy,
In spite of what you really have: a mess.
It's all the same, I figure, more or less:
A coffee cup, a smile, an industry,
What difference is there? Two times out of three
Irrationality rules. Feel the stress?

Relax. The answers pulse, fall silent, spill
Like sunlight on cathedral pews, they glow
In lovers' eyes, and fade. They come and go,
Leave hints for us: look at the daffodil
In airless earth here on your windowsill.
You don't already have an answer? So?