Look Back in Anger

Scrambled past this hell, where flagboy last fell,
dragging aglets held by the bastard's boot,
as the Van Nuys belles lunched soundless through the noon.
Now your sapling cut says you've past ring one,
yet--if adding up--then for more you'd vie.
From the valley of death you rode, so on spite you thrive.

Feeble feeder fish allowed to grow;
these spluttered fits found fit for show.
You wished a cancer nibbled off,
and laid down on the public trough.

She braves the crowd filled first from sides.
She might complete your jigsawed life.
With hair of maraschino red,
"Great show," she later said.

Well there are ways to make a treat of life,
and you were fine when you had none.
But knowing now what you'd missed out on, you find,
you look back in anger that it's done.

When religious kids mocked, each hypocrite's taunts
would just acquit God of further need;
reading His obit not a bang, just a murmuring.
Now each new concession sees this peasant
discontented all the more,
with his ignorance lessened of his plight before...

Beyonders prevail, the letters preached,
and thus secure, must turn the cheek.
You waved your pledge to this godly good,
only to crack, sprawled where they stood...

Though, if you're right to want what's yours,
weren't they right to take what's theirs?
So if you're weeping for poor squirrels,
also weep for poor, poor bears.

Red and friends, lagging by the back door,
lift you on angel stares.
Drunk, you'd claim you've never loved,
but it's too late to unscrew a Bud...

Yes, you were wrong to make demands on life,
'cause when you beg it never comes.
And we all find this out on our own time...
Look back in anger to have won.

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