When Honesty Honestly Doesn’t Pay

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When Honesty Honestly Doesn’t Pay

What if a small lie…

Could help the truth slide by
help someone who’s gone astray
sometimes it’s just the best way.

What if the small lie…

Would help someone feel better
make the world a nicer place
save another person’s face.

Honesty is the key
it’s plain to see
it’s a great policy;
to some degree.

What if the truth hurts…

Just remember to keep it small
it can get you through another day
when honesty honestly doesn’t pay.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written with Poets And Storytellers United for an open prompt (originally Poets United.)

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Sloth Personified

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“Sloth makes man powerless and dries out the nerves until man is good for nothing.” The Personification Of Sloth (shown, as a badly-dressed woman resting on an ass.)

Sloth features an assortment of fantastic creatures and a confused arrangement of hybrid structures reminiscent of Bosch’s work.

I like to think my poem is about how Sloth lives.

Sloth Personified

Dirty wrinkled sheets on an empty bed
the room an overflowing ashtray
reading materials litter the floor
along with containers of putrefied food
I’m used to the smell.

Hallways haphazardly cluttered
walking on top of the shifting heap
windows and doors long blocked
bathroom flooded in feces and filth
fly’s going through their life cycle in the kitchen.

Resting my weight on stacks of old magazines
lit up by the blue light of the phone screen
wine gives everything a rosy glow
trolling Instagram and nibbling on canned peaches
wondering where the cat went.

Come to think of it, I had 2 cats!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

About the artwork: Representing the vice of sloth, this image belongs to a series of prints of the Seven Deadly Sins, engraved by Pieter van der Heyden after drawings by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The personification of sloth, a shabbily dressed woman, demonstratively sleeps away the time in the central foreground, resting her weight on the back of an ass. The various examples of lazy or slothful behavior, in evidence in the surrounding landscape, colorfully demonstrate the message of the inscription. (Seen with photo above.)

Written for the prompt virture or vice at the Imanginary Garden With Real Toads. I picked sloth.

Lust/Love Sonnet

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Lust/Love Sonnet

I still love you after the fevered flesh has cooled
after the earth-shattering build to the summit
I’m oblivious to all else when in my frenzy
but the two of us, between sheets sublime.

I love the delirious delicious decadence of our intimacy
goosebumps on my skin when you touch me
I am certain no one will ever love me this much
then I watch my lover leave a stranger.

I love you like a dog loves to get scratched where it can’t reach
tongue exposed, slobbering and exposing myself
whimpering for more when you stop.

We never talk about our lives outside of the hotel room
rose-colored glasses are what I choose to wear
living in an altered sense of consciousness as lovers, not friends.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

The artwork is mine from a photograph taken while riding my bike put through a filter and animated.

For dVerse~Poets Pub, we were told to write a free verse sonnet. I am used to rhyming so I hope this will do. This is about a man I once thought I’d spend some time with but great sex does not a relationship, make.

Hell

 

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Hell

My life is emptiness and drab
the golden ring I could not grab
the doldrums never go away
the emptiness it fills each day.

Black is the color of my dreams
awakened by my tortured screams
the flames they lick and burn my skin
as I remained entrapped within.

I hear the others move about
with flies and maggots pouring out
of gaping mouths that make no sound
from bodies that are never found.

Stripped of flesh and driven mad
the demons taking all I had
the fallen angels taunting me
my never-ending agony.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Shared with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.

Nobody Can Wannabe As Much As Me

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Nobody Can Wannabe As Much As Me

Nobody can wannabe as much as me
I only use words to be famous you see.
Why does everyone else have to write so well,
I’m better than them all-can’t you tell?

Nobody can wannabe as much as me
I meet bad news about other writer’s with glee
if they need my help I steer them the wrong way
when they fail I have a very happy day.

Nobody can wannabe as much as me
every day I pluck wounds from the jealousy tree
I read and I write and the talent is there
but in the end, my work sits and nobody cares.

Nobody can wannabe as much as me
I want to sell my words and charge a big fee
I want my book to stay at number one
so that I can have it all and they have none.

Nobody can wannabe as much as me
if you get in my way I rue your destiny
ignore my work but you can’t win
for I will always undertake the bigger sin.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with humor for dVerse~Poets Pub.

Sin Eater

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Sin Eater

Oh sin eater, come today
come to where my loved one lay
he was easily led astray
help him cast these stains away.

Bread and wine upon the breast
of my darling laid to rest
half a shilling paid to thee
eat this meal and set him free.

Ameliorate this funeral feast
take on the sins of my deceased
allowing them to be released
so that my love may rest in peace.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Magpie Tales and Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.