to be slain by prIde

There is this paradox in pride—it makes some men ridiculous,
but prevents others from becoming so.  —Charles Caleb Colton
 
i lose my temper
every time i see
the haughty faces
of those who pleasure
in the parody
the fool embraces
 
scorning God's green earth
caring not that man
is of frail dust made
mocks his lowly birth
foils the Father's plan
for sways unsacred
 
every time i see
pride’s crude colour bar
where bigotry drinks
wine and irony
there a jagged scar
on life's sharpest brinks
 
strangles guileless souls
who measure not up
to hue’s futile rules
such unwieldy tolls
are of men corrupt
how the devil drools!
 
master puppeteer
stringing up the noose
for the suicide
of the chumps that jeer
who thus blindly choose
to be slain by pride
 
© Copyright 2020 January 04
by Clyve A. Bowen♫