Wisdom of Clive

“Tell me Humphrey,
That Maharaja of yours,
Suraj Singh of Todi,
Didn’t he steal glances
With the fairy maiden Betsy?
Oh my my!
That’s a telltale.
Couldn’t you see, old man?

He’ll sign the treaty.
Trade is important.
By Jove,
So is fornication.

Tell you, Humphrey,
This strange land
Is not so strange after all.
Dust as dramatic,
Ice as tasteless,
Rules as silly,
Kings and their men
As vile as the hoarders of gold.

Only the chance they seek
Is narrow.
There Humphrey,
Is our retribution!

Someday, old friend,
At the loss of lust,
Slash of wrist,
In the sadness of damp soil
In autumn coffins,
Fools and heroes,
Will conspire together
With conniving men

For glory,
Graven in stone.
Tell them, Humphrey!
We rightfully won.”


Sex is no good
They need submissions
How to propel love out of home
Shy drape, half drawn kiss
Wet corridors of innocent pales
They know.

Their trickery wounds
Wrecks soul, unheals tissue
Pins, pricks
Dread in polite eyes
That’s lust
For those morbid them
They moan.

I am a harmless man
Live in ‘sorry’, ‘thank you’
See them surrounding me
When lonely,
Distraught, plain wishful.