Tell me the wasted years werenít really wasted,
Tell me I never cared for song and wine,
Tell me some fruits were better left untasted,
Convince me hedonismís asinine.

Tell me the girls I never kissed werenít beauties,
That foolish passion masked their ugliness,
That there are only spiritual booties,
And hylic wealth is filled with emptiness.

Tell me that self-denial is applauded.
Be it intentional or otherwise,
That in the next world I will be rewarded,
Tell me! Make be believed your cursťd lies!

Convince me thereís but one path to Salvation,
That I am not in any sense bereft;
But if you canít, consign me to damnation,
And satisfaction, while Iíve still time left.

[The above was first published in Paraphernalia, No 1, DEC-JAN 88, page 10.]

Back To Poetry Index