The Lector's Welfare

Engorged with words, diabetic prose
still wants for sweetness, to overdose;
and overly savory, salty emotions
stress diastolic mental devotion.


Often espoused, by those who’ve tried it
are walking habits and a wholesome diet.
You see, things that reconnect us with earth
are good for our spirits (and for our girth).


And as with unsatisfied gastric gluttony,
our minds demand our textual sobriety.
The lector’s prescription? Trite and true:
Refine your tastes; it’s long overdue.

On Choosing Words

What's love, or hate, or anger, or joy, 
when spoken by the callow boy? 
Borrowed words, stolen by youth, 
that bruise and tear as an untrained tooth. 

They're passing fears, or fearful passions, 
that find expression in vulgar fashions; 
While nobler sentiments, yet unrefined, 
are cultivated in the disciplined mind. 

May finer language grace your tongue, 
hyperbole be quickly shunned, 
your metaphors be tastefully chosen, 
and words born of heat be instantly frozen; 

'Til finding your highest self-expression 
demands not assiduity, but opts for discretion.