The assignment was to write a 6-line alphabet poem that started each line with a letter of the alphabet in a 6-letter sequence. I.E. abcdef, qrstuv, etc. Being a creature of excess, I used the entire alphabet, forwards and backwards, ending with a final Z to boot, since the title began with an “A.” Please note that this is the cynical rant of a misanthrope—not necessarily my own view. And this is the only photo I could find in my album that smacked of high society. Actually, it’s a photo of me and my date for the junior prom.
A Misanthropic Anti-creed
After all is said and done,
Society is not much fun.
Cliques are just a machination
Dumbing down imagination.
Each misanthrope must find his own
Final method to disown
Galas thrown to feed the poor
Hawking excesses they abhor.
Ladies in jewels you could die of,
Jostling to catch the eye of
Kings of minor countries or
Lords who are the things of lore.
Meanwhile, gents in tux and tie
Nod to try to catch the eye
Of that next lady in Dior
Possessed of means to feed the poor.
Quickened now, they move to kill,
Ready to restore their till.
Society’s main charity
Trying for a parity
Under the understanding that
Verisimilitude is boring.
What’s important is just scoring
Xcess being all the norm
Yielding to those who most conform.
Zero, then, goes to the poor.
You must admit, they are a bore.
Xtravagence is what they come for.
Widows they won’t waste a crumb for.
Very likely that the starving
Urgently needing this feast’s carving
Taste not one small bite of it,
Still hungry now in spite of it.
Rich charity spends what’s allowed on
Quality that draws the crowd on.
Pheasant under glass costs more.
Only beans left for the poor.
Not a charitable hope
Mars ponderings of our misanthrope.
Let not one charitable thought
Knit his brow.With doubts it’s fraught.
Jarring thoughts are all he thinks
In between ironic winks.
Hear well the stories he might tell—
Gory threats of burning hell
For that well-heeled society
Eating up the profits of
Doubtful fund raisers of love.
“Charitize” to feed the poor,
But really serve their own needs more.
Ask the misanthrope at the door.
Zero is left to feed the poor!!!!
The dVerse Poets prompt is to write a 6 line alphabet phone, using 6 letters in sequence to begin lines. Here is the link: https://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=12Sep2018&meme=12493