A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

Autoantagonism

The autoantagonist
antagonized himself
using bits of others'
innocent gift to seed
rain around, hang lightning on,
without ever really
seeing the wrong,
or the need.

He's done fairly well.

He only was sure.
He only could tell.
This person was
fucking with him so well.
"Oh well," he fucked back
"If that is the way
they intended to play" - but was it?
Was it?

Was it always this way?

Ascribe bad intent
without any wrong
to actually pick?
And call it a catch!
And make it a fit,
and throw it at them?
You're their problem, now.
It isn't much match,
and no fuel to be lit.
They're free to protest
their innocence. Hell, if
they can do it surpassingly
well, you'll admit their gift
of concealment and stealth
to yourself, and accept
their apology - which
you supply - for what
they protest they did not
imply. But you know
you were sure. You know
you could tell. You
don't need to find

actual wrong

to smell.

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