Toast with a Time Limit

Here’s hoping the missing good cheer

That should have been prevalent here

Shows up at the door, not another old bore,

Or I’ll have to be leaving, my dear,

For your party is killing my joy

And particularly, to annoy

Me: wasting my time with dull boors is a crime

I’m not quick to forgive, my dear boy.

Coming-Uppance

Relegated to the lowest

Rank of feebleniks and fools,

I can see my betters’ failings

And their breaking of the rules,

But I keep my quiet counsel,

Counting nothing disconcerting,

Never flinch, for I remember:

Blackmail can be quite diverting!

Emptying the Vessel

Under my penitential veil,

Blue-socketed and ashy pale,

I genuflect and toll my faults,

Demurely dance a pious waltz;

I bend and bow and pine and scrape,

Dressed in hair shirts and chains and crape,

And when my guilt’s no longer sore,

I’ll dash right out and sin some more!

Close Shave

The opportunity occurs

So rarely, it is true,

That I can scarce resist the urge

To put my hands on you

With malediction in my heart

A glacier in my veins

A purring curse through smiling fangs

And voltage in my brains

That perks nefarious Nemeses

Like me to work your doom—

But I’d be left too much bereft:

No You to hate? Then, whom?