The Outcast

A bohemian who once was,
bludgeoned by his fate.
Wedged by the world around
to shed his evil trait.

'twas espousal he cried for
and de trop it was to ask.
As the fake world of morality,
mandated the moral mask.

The Tenth Muse.

I wrote this when I had to pay the price for NOT being a hypocrite :


Ha! so you had to do it.
Speak out your fickle mind
Surefooted delusions
that maketh you a grind.

Afterall can't you see
that love is but a pompy show?
With your savage ways
which blue lady won't mop and mow?

Why can't you just lie?
It is your tenth muse
when gross accusals
make prejudices fuse.

Ha! so you had to say it!
ignorant of interpretations
which in all puerility
could be virgin obligations.

Afterall if you had lied
or not said anything at all
the chauvinistic insinuations
couldn't have caused your dreaded fall.

Ha! so you had to do it
Speak out your fickle mind
surefooted delusions
that maketh you a grind