P.S. Regrets Only:

Ahoy! Humanity. Speak not, listen:
Not of some tragicomedy or trivial banter of the ilk
Not of some lady-love lost and found –
But of malice – strong and solemn. And fury.
You may enter this web of hatred, but at your own risk;
Enter one by one. Maintain trajectory. Seal your lips.
Else, leave now. Quit. And do not disturb.

– – – – – – –

Was hell-bent to be a good guest:
Filled my plate with my hosts’ choice.
Hellishly bent they were –
Closed their plates at my sight.
My preferences lay a tad away. I swallowed else.
Bigful Banquet. Numberful Nosh. Humbleless Hosts.

When politeness becomes weakness, guest becomes valet.

Was hell-bent to do as directed and even exceed:
When asked for water, I gave my blood.
Hellishly bent they were –
Sucked it more and more and fed on it.
Like vermin on those never-suturing wounds.
Clandestine Conspiracies. Evil Exudations, Oozed Ominously.

Is man a switch? On-off, on-off at will?

– – – – – – –

We sowed and watered and toiled tight.
In bleak clime and Machiavellian regime:
Yet, by winter our garden-laurels were plucked and plucked,
The onlookers stopped to stare – sinfully silent.

Covertly this and overtly that.
That is the order of the day –
Pristine honesty is a corpulent crone’s chortle –
Today’s mutated version: less of heart, more of head.

Stoic wounds have a lot of fortitude,
Rub salt and they feel it not.
Plunge your uneven fingers deeper in them:
They may bleed, but never cry.

Multitudinous faces did I see.
Five types the most facial of all:
Who’d promise to arrange a warm and balmy bath,
And after the cold night’s patience, splash one up with frosty fuel.

Ein: Ye foxes. Ye toothless Archfiends and bald Medusas.
(Called us for the trophy but buffed us hard to shine it bright!)
Ye manipulative missiles: your curse will consume ye.
Ye will rot in your own grotesque company – and wither.

Zwei: Ye shaky sub-ordinates. Ye loose screws.
(They charge for gold, supply silver, and call it all fair!)
Nepotism, nepotism, and nepotism ye know – hell waits.
Ye call honesty arrogance: that’s some audacity!

Drei: Ye mistresses of spices. Ye proud credit-pilferers –
(They try to pollute all minds in the most nefarious ways!)
Your rectitude can put a skunk to shame. So can ye.
Quintessence of failure and scum on opportunity: ye.

Vier: Ye obstinate termagants. Ye heartless boas.
Results matter for ye, not reasons: inhuman sub-humans.
(Thought we were innocently foolish – big solecism!)
Know it that we were just too disgusted to remonstrate.

Fünf: The Queens are yet to come!
Vagary and continuity abreast? Elysian lawns in Erebus?
Your cold shoulders can silence the infernal inferno.
When quiet, one is ‘reticent’. When not: ‘rebellious’.
Such is the mystery of your confused dualism:
Coloured opinions – painted customarily in grey.
Fight your own size, witches. Shame on you.
(Blotches upon this land – let us re-call Ragnarok.)

– – – – – – –

Some deserved, and the others…. Had it all reserved.
My time’s lessons, in gratis, is what I wish to share with all –
In simple words let me aver the simple aphorism –
Climb that greased pole called Life,
And never give in and never give up.
“Satisfaction lies in the heart, not hand.”
Fine words from the distant rumours of land.

Hoping that the Catharsis preludes the Catastrophe.

– – – – – – –

P.S.: Regrets Only: