Wrath

No matter what I do or say,
I’m never enough, always a step away.
I try to keep up, wear myself thin,
But all I feel is the burn within.
If I could change, I swear I would,
But trying and failing still hurts, as it should.


Pride

In the mirror, I see a man undone,
Not proud, but broken, the lesser one.
No arrogance here, no smug facade,
Only a soul bruised, and left flawed.
Superior? No, I shrink from the view,
Hating myself far more than I do you.


Lust

Lust is a sneaky, seductive beast,
I’ve given in, but found no feast.
Those urges led to hollow roads,
But I broke free, shed those heavy loads.
Desire comes, but I’ve learned to be,
Unshackled, with a heart finally free.


Greed

I once held tight, refusing to share,
The world was mine, I didn’t care.
But time changed me, and now I see,
Greed’s lost its hold, no longer on me.
My hand is now open, I’ve learned to give,
Unburdened, I can finally live.


Envy

I used to ache for someone's life,
Trapped in longing, never satisfied.
Why not me? I’d wonder and weep,
Until something shifted, I could sleep.
Now I’m a man content with less,
Grateful in ways I never confess.


Gluttony

Food may not be my chosen vice,
I’ve drowned in pleasures, paid the price.
It is but the need to fill,
The endless void that lingers still.
This hunger for escape, it eats away,
But I know its tricks, it's clear as day.


Sloth

I set my goals, yet never reach,
Room to grow, but I don’t breach.
I drift through days, no purpose found,
A ghost in waiting, with silent sound.
What is my worth, what should I be?
I ache for meaning, to finally see.

There once was a man from Pawtucket
Who'd eat a whole 18-piece bucket
     Of KFC chicken
     (His fingers a-lickin')
And as for the soda, he'd **** it.

-Eat of the Fat.
But for why?
-Because you have to feed.
Drink of the sweet.
-But for why?
Cause your gluttony is greed.
-Save a portion.
But for why?
-Because your fruitlessness is nigh.
-So save a portion.
But it’s mine.
-Then all of them will die.

A night of *******

on sleeping bodies, and then --


the leeches explode.

Approaching customs, my father slowed the car.
"Time to eat! he said, and pulled us to the side.
He'd bought peaches from a fruit stand,
Forgotten they'd never cross the border.

Never one to waste, his plan unfolded.
We stood beside the car, peach juice
Trickling down our arms,
Falling at our elbows,
Gorging a delicacy turned to glut,
Making memories of forced generosity,
Gluttons of fruit, victims of parsimony.

My mother knew what was coming:
The cramps we kids would have
From smuggling peaches
In stretched bellies
Into Canada.

Hand over my mouth, I laugh
at the evil child
you are, who wants everything
as it should be

a better world
justice, equality
and brotherhood, now!

No longer an ideal
that makes fellow human beings suffer
in order not to lack anything themselves

So immature, not you
your complaint, your desire
for more

more solidarity
more harmony
more self-criticism

I know, the seed
of your gluttony
which wants all that
is your sweet anger

The majority

will want to live frugally --


when it is too late.

A day without wine,

two glasses of wine at most --


just three large glasses.

A boss claims to be

caring, but he is a child --


that always wants more.