Written unexpectedly a few weeks ago because I worry and also hold a low opinion for those who it behooves to play the part of what they are not.
Wind Bag
Pretends he’s enlightened
When the light barely flicks
He will sprinkle his musings
With some few choice-word picks
The soul of an artist?
I think not, no way
His clumsy conclusions
Barely mask what they may
From within threatening aura
An abuser implies
What she sees in this fool
While the truth she denies
Cook up the fictions
And set out to sail
The picture might focus
Into fullest detail
A surface illusion
And the warnings seem clear
In the bounce that she’s taken
There is much she should fear
Copyright SGW 2009