Epigrams / Page ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR

by St. Fond

Epigram I.36
Old hat, this trick, Aimee: the affronted toss-back
Of head, stomp down 1st Avenue: I'm not to slack –
Am expected to hurry after, sink to knees,
Regain your regard with profuse apologies.
I have a different approach: I'll call your bluff,
Laugh at your theatrical scamper-away huff,
Hope you won't come calling, bawling, crawling:
Get it, Aimee? I've had more than enough!

Epigram I.35
One strains for a word of sincerity,
A single sentence framed in clarity;
But there's only smirking vagueness, smug hints,
Self-referential mumblings, verbal lint:
Oswhore, we all know you aim to be dark,
Deep, mysterious; but you've not a spark
Of imagination, a single thought
Uncolored by shallow posing: you're naught
But the wish, in vain, to know how to feign –
Yes, a sorry fact: you can't even act!

Epigram I.34
  Sot's been promoted to department head.
He's the firm's dream discovery: brain dead,
Limp of will, fearful of confrontation –
Sure bet for yes-man administration.
  Sot's ruling passion? Lard-laced sugar sweets:
Turn your back,
he's reaching for fatty eats,
Gorging two-handed, in binger's heaven.
One helping – three: inside an hour seven
Pastries swell his belly, he as glass eyed
And vacant as if someone dear just died.
  Sot's other joy? He's a skilled informant,
Always alert for any non-conformant
That mocks the office or dissolves in mirth
At thought of his ever-expanding girth.
  Word is Sot's driven to tattle galore
Because frustration's carved a painful sore,
Destroyed his self-esteem: a certain She,
Quite lovely, would rather drink rancid pee
Than give him a spark of attention span.
  Yes, Sot's a bitter gluttonous half-man,
Assured departmental stillbirth:
The firm sure got its money's worth!

Epigram I.33
Coy brunette: your downturned eyes and delicate hands
Surge and crest in my blood, whirl like electric sands
In my jangled nerves! Have pity: I'll hardly sleep
Or know calm tonight 'less you allow me to reap
Some rapture at the sight of an inviting glance
From you – the smallest trace of frolic-in-advance.
Why not shed the shyness that brings about violence
In my breast, engulfs me in gloom, cackling silence?
Why not surrender your lithe body, smooth as cream?
Why not turn inside out in bliss, dissolve in dreams?
I'll caress soft as lapping waves, if such pleases;
I'll soothingly whisper like gossamer breezes.
I'll lick and tickle without mercy should you wish:
Any sort of treatmen
t you desire, succulent dish.
Think it over, but don't be long: too much delay
Might, despite your comeliness, effectively slay
Attraction by early next week, erase your face
From desire. Yes, I'll already long to embrace
Another: you're not the sole one able to sting
My fancy into yearning for a heady fling!

Epigram I.32
I shall defend to the end the right to pretend:
Pretend lasting love to postpone a shoddy row,
Cause the rage and disdain to depart from her brow;
Pretend to be absorbed for days in work at home
So that I can be free on those nights, free to roam;
Pretend fondness of serious commitment stuff
So that she's happy and blithe, seldom in a huff;
Pretend to appreciate all her lame advice
So that she's inclined to nice, surrenders to vice;
Pretend to love her silliest haircuts and clothes
So that I can freely savor the treasure trove
Between her thighs, engulf myself - and her - in sighs,
Sweet fluttering cries, enraptured rollings of eyes:
I shall defend to the end the right to pretend!

Epigram I.31
  Jill has a hot date, but date's not enough.
Before rendezvous, she does flirty stuff:
Teases galore with showings of thigh, hair flicks,
Brimming eyed love lorn looks – turns lunatic
With lust as many males as she's able,
Brings on itchy hardness in their cables.
  Yes, Jill loves to flirt – bring about mild hurt,
Surround herself with men longing to squirt –
Before rushing to be with latest boy:
Flirting's funtime, a titillating toy! –
Self-empowerment, an addictive joy!
  Hell, if Jill couldn't flirt ahead of time
With others, she wouldn't bother to climb
Into bed with anyone, would play dumb
When propositioned – be silent, numb.
  Yes, flirting's an end in itself for Jill,
Better than mere sex – a dizzying thrill
Ride of subjugation, conquest, capture;
And Jill likes to finalize her rapture
With flight to boyfriend's bed: she's quite zealous
About making her flirt-victims jealous!


Epigrams / Page ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR

St. Fond's Epigrams
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