Tuesday, January 22, 2008

First Deadly Sin . . .Pride

Original form of poetry I call "Septcouplet;" from Septette (A set of seven similar things considered as a unit) and couplet (Two successive lines of verse forming a unit marked usually by rhythmic correspondence, rhyme.) The Septcouplet consists of seven free-style verses, with six lines each, no syllable count. After each verse there are two lines which rhyme, with four syllables in each line. The style is lowercase, except for proper names, punctuation when needed inside the lines, but none at the end of lines.

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deliriously gifted and self absorbed
sits like a pasha waiting for figs and tea to be served
born lacking the capability of care about others
a unimportant man serving noble causes
his
self-esteem infuriating as Chinese arithmetic

no man on earth
is worth his worth

hepatitis of the ego
inward turned eyes finds no soul
symphony in his head
beats out rhythm of his importance
most used word . . .
I

he thinks he's swell
self-esteem hell

grossly overweight in the id region of his brain
degree from college of me
mind altering course on conceit and/or smugness
illegal drugs not nearly as deadly
his flame burns with egotistical chutzpah, concealing
goodness like brontosaurus foreskin

we look at you
and we see through

you feel important
like leaders of tiny nations
bluster and rant
with rodent-like characteristics
smiling a smile that never reaches your eyes
you think you are larger than God

you touch yourself
your soul's bereft

you sport pawnshop brass balls
unflattering nymphomaniac of self-esteem
church of the condescending
your luminosity glows with superciliousness
shallow man, gloms onto whatever
makes him bigger than the rest

never content
image for rent

no one can see the true scope of this man
he belittles Donne's adage
no man is an island
the five senses not nearly enough
to appreciate the magnitude of this man
with the cutthroat glare

proud to a fault
himself exalt

vast mind of bravura desolation
he tends to his own chamber of commerce
his gaze locked inward
serial narcissistically predisposed
spent his whole life
compulsively seeking outward meaning

when, at the end
life was pretend

©February 11, 2006 / Jerry Pat Bolton

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