Five falling foibles fell away
As six successors sought
That faraway and fevered fund
That bland Belial bought.

By fantasy and Pharisee
The samurai were sent
To feign a final fallacy
Benificence had bent.

But faring father figures know
How seldom sadness sells,
Nor fraud and falsehood, fast and far,
Brought in with bonus bells.

Five fit and phosphorescent flaws
The six have seen still sullies —
The flow and flight of those who fail
Made ballet boys

From bullies

My Doctor Says

My doctor says that I should x,
But I am through with x’ing;
For every x, there is a “y” —
The whole thing’s rather vexing.

So many known unknown unknowns;
They vary in the passing —
My doctor says, if I’d be whole
I need to quit half-assing

My mind and body are my own,
Except, they go where he goes;
He looks at wax inside my ears
For reasons only he knows

He’s late, and so I sit and wait;
My schedule rearranging —
My doctor says that I should x,
But “x” keeps fricking