SPITE

So you're losing the game 
In spite 
Maybe you should adjust 
and playwright 
Instead 
Of taking your golf club 
And walking away 
So that no one can confirm 
Your bad swing 
 
If this was a game of checkers 
You would have thrown up 
The board 
Just before your King 
Gets eaten 
And left your contenders 

With no last play 
On which to boast 

 
Spite 
The move of a 6-year-old boy 
Who sees things narrowly 

snatching away candies from babies 
And believes that he must win 
By cheating failure 
 
70 long years 
And a doctor 
With no dexterity 
To manoeuvre 
A State 
Of opposition 
Nor decipher 
Reality 
 
From imaginary contenders 
And fear 
So every hole you 
Can't put 
You shut off 
And every time 
You think you can't eat 
You end the game 
Mr. winner 
 

Have you no shame? 

Too much pride 

to turn failure 

To success 

So you turn success into failure 

Cheered by atrocious 

Sychophants 

You control the game 

And make sport of legends 

 

And war rivalry 
Of sportsmanship 

 
 

Copyright©2021 by Camille Caliscia Patrick