The Depth of Sin
Lust
She, to me, is the morning, the noon, and the night;
All those simple things taken by time.
My clock takes a different form,
Each motion the tick, and hear her voice the chime;
Lips as red as the summer rose,
Hair the envy of golden sun,
Curves smooth, tender, fair –
For me, there is only one.
An image of perfection captured for me;
For I cannot be expected to live without thee.
Gluttony
The spread of the table
Spilling out of bowls
Piled high on plates.
A landscape rich and contrasting -
A fat, plump centre piece,
The scent of a Sunday roast;
A deep purple liquor river of a crumbling pudding;
Mountains of green shoots and orange batons,
And valleys of sweet summer fruits and hearty tubers.
Glistening silver ware,
Tarnished tips and blunted edges.
A cracked plate covered by tattered cloth.
The chair scraping across the floor,
The beginning of the feast.
Pride
A note to begin with,
Something small and humble –
Tales of a man from myth,
The gift to all who stumble.
Oh, to write such a legend!
Let the words enthral,
And create hopes that will never be;
Stories never to be questioned.
Now we start it all,
With this, an ode to me.
Envy
Here lies my first and my last.
The beloved and the admired,
The one I watched with green eyes.
You who fell so suddenly at my behest,
I will remember, I will replace.
Sloth
To start with nothing,
Languorous years passing by –
Valued above all.
Greed
It will never be enough; the riches,
The gold and silver which drive the world apart,
The papers which influence the ambitious.
Bring together the fineries – fabric and art.
Keep them all within my reach,
Give me somewhere to start.
Practice what you preach –
It is never enough,
To practice what I preach, there must be another vault to breech.
Wrath
Is an explanation required?
Nothing was ill deserved,
After all a man can only be loyal to himself.
A lost job, a lost home, a lost wife, a lost lover –
Everything to bring a chapter to a close.
Is an explanation required?
A box filled, its cardboard punctured and warped.
A note upon the door, with the bold letters a sigh.
After all a man can only be loyal to himself.
An empty hall, entering a house full of noise;
Shoes side-by-side: mine, yours, and theirs
Is an explanation required?
Is there a need to be quiet? To be careful?
What is the risk? There is nothing to lose,
After all a man can only be loyal to himself.
Hands, steel, both stained red,
Linen sodden, weighted down as they lay so still –
Is an explanation required?
After all a man can only be loyal to himself.
