The Seven Deadly Sins

Abstract

The Seven Deadly Sins J. D. McClatchy (bio) Pride Since everything starts with me, I will stand alone.Who would be understood must first be obeyed.While we watch the flower fade, the thorn has grown.Since everything starts with me, I will stand alone.My fist unclenched, I am eager to cast the first stone.Whom I will not love I can easily persuade,But since everything starts with me, I will stand alone.Who would be understood must first be obeyed. The tears of regret all turn into pillars of salt,While success is calculation's monumentAnd cities in flames are always the enemy's fault.The tears of regret all turn into pillars of salt.I am what galaxies orbit, what seasons exalt.The humble beg to save what's already been spent.The tears of regret all turn into pillars of salt,While success is calculation's monument. If you have them, go give your hearts to a cause.Superior in the end to all, I take nothing's side,Not wish or counterwish, not your chaos or your laws.If you have them, go give your hearts to a cause.Your contempt means as much to me as applause.Take what comfort good intentions provide.If you have them, go give your hearts to a cause.Superior in the end to all, I take nothing's side. [End Page 376] Greed Beware the man who wants more than is neededTo keep his own back straight, the Prophet warns,But if all desire were cupidity, how would IHave come by a taste for bread and circuses,Or felt the pinch of sadness when my trustIn the unseen is trimmed by virtue's scissors?Do I profit from love? Does goodness trickle down?How empty the phantom hoard of its overmuch? Anyone comes to regret a golden touch,While the spendthrift heart gambles on its potAnd misers scowl at the glinting coin on the floor.From alley to boardroom, in coffee-cup or coffer,Not to accumulate but to count, to compare,Brings down both the beggar and the millionaire. [End Page 377] Lust The hallway's trail of clothes leads to that shameCompulsive indifference better names than lust.When Phyllis saddled Aristotle, who'd blamePhilosophy for what wisdom should not trust?Dogged voluptuaries usually make straightFor the very thing they have over and over had,Then vomit up the greedily swallowed bait.The stalker and nympho would drive each other mad.They want to be wanted yet be in control, soEach follows a mirrored logic to its extreme.That they cannot fuck the world is all their woe,To watch the pain and pleasure they cause their dream.Who can't be stopped or satisfied knows wellThe little death whose legacy is hell. [End Page 378] Envy The keeper of sheep is preferred.This dimwit's the dernier cri.The young are in working order.Why him and not me? A torch has been passed at the palace.The bishop's an SOB.That magnate is plying his charm.Why him and not me? Let the infant be sliced in two.A cousin's been named the trustee.Some pimply rocker's the star.Why him and not me? [End Page 379] Gluttony When just one apple was too much,The flesh would feast upon its fall,And sated senators succumbIn perfumed vomitoriums.A finger down the throat will stallSatiety's tenacious clutch. While loaves and fishes fed a crowd,A single locust was enoughTo please the hermit in his cave.The body's appetites enslave:No sooner do they swill and stuffThan tailors must let out its shroud. When Francis of Assisi ate,Ashes were his only spice.The condiments in plump CockaigneDisguise the taste to help explainWhy temperance is a sacrificeThe belly's meant to palliate. No matter how the pot is sweetened—Organic triggers? Low self-esteem?—A demon stirs in second thoughts.Mid-spoonful, gourmands grow distraughtAt prospects of a nouvelle cuisine:In hell, the overeaters are eaten. [End Page 380] Anger My anger...