Childhood (Poem A)

I had the bibulous bellowings of the bearded 1%

As consideration among my inspirations heaven-sent.

Nevertheless their dead dreams are not

An indication of my life-bound provocation,

But more of a vision of the anti-salvation

That condemns the men of our plagued nation.

Grown accustomed to their rambunctious functions

I learned to observe and imagine;

The mannerisms, and lives of these people

Who worship their coloured clubhouse

As a steeple,

And answered my teenaged orisons.

But, now in hindsight it was rough

Though it's made me oh so tough;

Capricious now, as a child couth,

But I see the actions now, as the real truth:

I was barely a teen boy,

With an egregious sweet tooth

For a whiskey sloshing sippy cup,

To match school's other youths.