December Excogitation

Hoist the standard,

Defeatist,

With strong spirits -

We like our Martinis, indeed,

Very dry...

Whichsoever spirit

Might recall a luminary,

Twice as bright, iridescent,

That will do, irrefragably!

Whichsoever might coruscate

With a pale of hope.

The blithering idiot,

The Asinine,

Holds himself in high esteem:

An astute fighter am I, he thinks,

Eleemosynary gent,

In shining armor!

Ah, the febrile folly!

Inescapable, perpetual,

Amongst hollers and caterwauls,

Some internalized,

Some less so.

The gavel needs not strike,

Judgment is ubiquitous,

The Lord is Witness

To every stumble and stoop...

Even giants bow,

If only, if only...