The world has enough decorated war heroes and enough talking media zeroes,

enough credentialed academics and enough mrarthin runners always so athletic.

Enough fashion icons with their tapered pants and collared shirts,

enough fashion model, beauty queens, those always drunken flirts,

enough burboun drinkers who always forget to use their blinkers,

enough barrel chested players, those long ago varsity lettermen,

enough big house owners who go around married to their closet stoners.

No peak will ever be high enough and no valley will ever see their presence at the bottom with all the left over losers who will never be able to do all that they have done,

where the sun goes for days and nothing brings it out again or relieves the constant strain of not living up to the ways and means htat their examples set,

Enough of all of them!

They forget that I was there the whole time they were and I saw everything they saw over anfd over again and that I was always the one who saw it for what it was.

(I have no interest in unblemished heroes – those who were never real and who never let us down.)

Enough of trying to prove myself, do you ever get tired of trying ot run that fast all the time?

Enough of trying to cram more and more into tight pants, don’t they weigh you down on that constant uphill climb?

Enough of the perfect life, enough of the perfect portraits and the total lack of strife.

Doesn’t that burboun sting your tongue? – Does that cigar really taste that good or is that just a song that you have already sung?

If you are lucky in the end you will maintain your dignity.

If you are lucky you can find a way to let others help you bear some of the burden.

If you are lucky in the end you can rely on your faith and remember what awaits.

(just be sure to remind eveyone how big your house is.)

“Qui totum vult totem perdit”

You who have everything has to have even more, there has to be something left in the bottle to fill the remaining space in the cup, enormous blessings already poured.

You who have so much,

more than you will ever need,

always piling up more and more,

that bottomless consumer creed.

You who have already gone further than most will ever dream still have to stand out front polishing those chrome fenders to an unending gleam.

“Quid totum vult totum perdit”

You with the prestigiosyu job all young and priveledged,

owner of all these commendations, words from the higher ups,

sharing drinks and conversations and your lips to those silver cups.

you who I remember as young and unfocused, trying hard to be somebody, always a follower but then again, never bowing down to anyone.

“Poi s’ascase nel fuco chegli affina”

Then you wait and consider all that has come to pass, and when it comes to pass you to will pass – just as he did, alone and almost without his dignity.

What good will all you have done then do then?

(about the same it did for him – still gone and unable to remember anything or even what it was he had.)

And then there is me, who in his heart of hearts, knows he has more than I ever dreamed I would,

who has had enough of shallow relationships with unattainable people and cant stand the thought of another party of puffery where they all sit around and talk about their new cars or their gross income.

All those season ticket holders and enough of the Ivy League crew and their fancy western homes that have their parties with their tuxedos and all their best freind guests.

(Qui totum vult totem perdit)

T.S. Deary – P.A.F.M.

You are not who I once thought you were- gorgeous face, strong in body yet simple in mind,.

Showing true colors when invisible and just waiting slowly to strike unseen and showing fangs with full and beautiful lips.

I once defended you against an accusation that obviously hurt you – no I did not believe what was said – made it a point to tell you so as well, and how throw stones my way has tarnished my memory.

I know of dark places.

I know of deception behind lovely faces.

I know if fraud and deception.

I know of the lure of evil, sly, reception.

I have seen those who glitter.

I have tasted what has since gone bad.

I have been astonished at how they become bitter,

and then stood aside after I have been had.

I have known your face in many places and the roots that hide there all go in the same direction.

You would have me believe that right is left and left is right and that I am wrong and only you are right.

Perfect husband and you the trophy wife with all the pictures to prove it are framed upon your face,

no room for mediocrity or anything that does not provide reflection,

just as long as all remind you and point to that constant chorus of perfection.

I bet you would never blister even in the sun or the raw nerve of the lights upon the shallow syllables of all your comments.

No one would ever dare to call you out or to ever put you down.

Never looking long enough to see the ones you have forgotten where you have never been- to busy contouring your eyebrows and painting up your secrets behind a pouty smile.

Just lace up the latest fashion, style your hair and run another mile.

Just go on and on and tell as often as you can how you are the one enlightened and how your man made you realize the wicked evil of your ways,

Then turn around and agree that women are mistreated and how the only church they need is the Church of Planned Parenthood and their highest sacrament given at the altar of partial birth abortion terminating life and destroying the bond of love – then turn and criticize those whose words offend you because authenticity never pays.

Cover girl face,

such a lovely place,

never deeply civil,

moral stand will shrivel.

Run the longest distance,

better than all of us,

just praise all of that persistence,

argument to aggress..

No argument from me, I remember to much and forget to little, there is no glitter in your gold, only from far away, in foolish light at all those cocktail parties and moments with friends just as shallow.

(attack the arguer and not his argument, certain you are smarter and better than all that.)

Moral grandstand,

I ma so far below you and down here I manage to forget and to cease to understand why you were ever worthy of any defense – my words must have been meant for someone else.

High maintenance,

high fashion,

much countenance,

such a morbid fashion.

Pointy fingers and making unrelated charges in the name of signalling virtue,

all this pieta ficta,

venom given to me – biting and sarcastic,

where I once saw gold in you,

I now see rust and decay.

A pretend funeral of virtue, long dead and gone.

Pretender of highest altitude then turn and pretend to fly away from those who cant be at your level,

(sacramentum Cenae)

Oh, that cover girl face,

I am sure you took him away to such a fantastical place.

A perfect state of sanctity and grace,

no guilt or awareness – not even a trace.

Perfect man, so handsome,

deep mind and then some,

he’s held your mind for ransom,

much better than being sad or lonesome.

You, so woke and unasleep – even censor jokes that offend your sensibilities.

Outraged over any perceived slight on women but still willing to demand abortion and sever the ties of mother and child- those fragile strings that hold us all together.

(sacramentum Cenae)

Pearls cast before swine,

one to many cups of wine,

just be sure to tell her she is fine,

use one or all – any fancy line.

All you are is a pretty face.

Inhabiting some glittering place.

Speak truth to power,

You, crumbling, fragile flower.

Inhabited ivory tower,

seeking growing power,

expecting others to sit and stay in place,

believing in the power of face.

(aliquid per nihil)

Iustus a pulchellus faciem……

T.S. Deary

10/1/2020