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Manic Success
It's a guiltless day, where guiltless reign
with two fists of profit, two eyes alight;
smiles like blinders to signal the sky.
They envy none. With each every one,
there's no sense of calm, no state of mind,
nothing contained but good bottled wine.
Chatter can cease, but not 'til release of
nebulous candor to drift 'bout the room,
guzzling fancy, speaking of doom,
darkening shades in light of gruel matters
concerning our finds, our whimsy and fortune;
where was the man, on night driven mad
by we men so branded by manic success!
Where was he chosen, where was he sought?
Back to the party, it's all been for not.
