Cardinal Signs (aka Seven Sins of Fay: Full Crown)

 

(You would not believe how long this took Fay Roberts to put this graphic together)

Full text for the Seven Deadly Sins follows:

The gateway to the seven stands right here. 🍎
you long to touch, but cannot quite commit
to all the things that you’re supposed to fear
(while this one claims it’s fine to just submit)
it’s natural to hope, it does no harm
to gaze upon what might, in time, be yours
and how are you supposed to counter charm
designed to gloss (or venerate) its flaws?
you look, and look, and cannot look away
spend all spare moments summoning the scenes
occasional indulgence has now swayed
to frequencies and formulas obscene
and though you’re more than warmed now by this fire
you’ll gorge yourself on all you might desire 🍎
pick this and that, fill platters to the brim
the feast arrayed in front of you inspires
more active souls to hustle to the gym
that’s not your game – it’s all about the choices
that cause ascetics such a dreadful fright –
but here your inner toddler rejoices!
(now clean your plate – aught else is impolite)
the world is full of misery and heartache
and people who insist on leeching joy
so come on – might as well inhale this cheesecake
and leave them to their schemes and scowls and ploys
and though tomorrow’s gripe might make you weep
you can’t let tyrants rob you of your sleep 🍎
you need some peace and quiet for a while
just let them rant and spill out all their bile
if that’s what virtue looks like, they can keep
it, sticking to the herd with all the sheep
exert yourself? you’d rather run a mile
than keep up with the pious rank and file
it’s better to lie low than take the leap
but whispers filter through your sweet, white noise:
“This good man’s doing nothing…” outright lies!
you’re just recuperating former poise
(if wallowing was sport, you’d take the prize)
ambition stalled – those others took your toys
how dare they shout to claim your starry skies? 🍎
you think that they’d have quite enough from birth
to satisfy their hunger, stop their cries –
it’s like they don’t appreciate the worth
of everything that’s handed to them – free
and gratis, not like you, who’s had to work
to claim what meagre scraps you’ve gathered – see?
it’s more than equal treatment while they shirk
responsibilities – it’s thoughtlessness
that irks you, when all you can do is think
what luxuries you’d milk from bitterness
while, all the while, you’re clinging to the brink
of giving up on being good and kind –
they all deserve a big piece of your mind! 🍎
they say restraint is all the rage again
but leaving fools in ignorance? unkind
it’s time to crack your knuckles, lift the pen
start firm – apology is out – you must
be strong, resist the urge to soften blows
this lot must understand your cause is just
it’s just that they’re so wrong, and heaven knows
you’ve left it long enough to make it clear
you feel the righteousness race through your blood
it’s screaming now: rip down all they hold dear
the time is coming. none survive the flood
we’re more than fodder, more than fucking spares
how dare they swan around like no-one cares? 🍎
it’s easy, really: simply be the best
forsake all other notions, let the rest
diminish to a distant din downstairs
you see, they long to be as good as this –
their every breath declares them second class
that panting envy fogs the looking glass –
however hard they try, they’ll always miss
but… what if they’ve a point? no, heavens – no!
no matter how they march, wave stuff, and shout
just turn the music up to drown them out
it’s all about not what, but how you show
superiority in every glance
not everyone can grab a second chance 🍎
the pusillanimous will whine and fret
but you can call the measure of this dance
since he who pays the piper owns their sweat
and tears, you can’t quite get enough of those
that saltiness is something that you crave
its glitter littering the path you chose
see, misery extends beyond the grave
there’s only so much you can rut or stuff
into your face, but this? its maw expands
with every bite, and never gets enough
and that’s what you don’t care to understand
you hold this key obscenity so dear…
The gateway to the seven stands right here.

#27 - Cupid Corrupted

Finally, and only an hour beyond the threshold, Fay Roberts finishes zir musing on the Seven Deadly Sins with the crowning horror: #Greed.

Not everyone can grab a second chance.
The pusillanimous will whine and fret,
but you can call the measure of this dance,
since he who pays the piper owns their sweat

and tears, you can’t quite get enough of those.
That saltiness is something that you crave,
its glitter littering the path you chose.
See, misery extends beyond the grave.

There’s only so much you can rut or stuff
into your face, but this? its maw expands
with every bite, and never gets enough.
And that’s what you don’t care to understand.

You hold this key obscenity so dear…
The gateway to the seven stands right here.

– FR

Image of rotting apples from Tasting Table

#23 - Golden Age

Headache finally over, it’s time for Fay Roberts to tackle #Pride while messing with form…

How dare they swan around like no-one cares?
It’s easy, really: simply be the best.
Forsake all other notions, let the rest
diminish to a distant din downstairs.

You see, they long to be as good as this –
their every breath declares them second class,
that panting envy fogs the looking glass –
however hard they try, they’ll always miss.

But… what if they’ve a point? No, heavens – no!
No matter how they march, wave stuff, and shout,
just turn the music up to drown them out;
it’s all about not what, but how you show

superiority in every glance.
Not everyone can grab a second chance.

Picture from Abraham’s Store

#19 - DIES IRAE

Fay Roberts fought off another bloody #migraine to bring this bit of #Wrath your way.

They all deserve a big piece of your mind.
They say restraint is all the rage again,
but leaving fools in ignorance? Unkind.
It’s time to crack your knuckles, lift the pen.

Start firm – apology is out – you must
be strong, resist the urge to soften blows.
This lot must understand your cause is just,
it’s just that they’re so wrong, and heaven knows

you’ve left it long enough to make it clear.
You feel the righteousness race through your blood,
it’s screaming now: rip down all they hold dear.
The time is coming. None survive the flood.

We’re more than fodder, more than fucking spares.
How dare they swan around like no-one cares?

– FR

Image from Stock Food

#15 - Invidious

Fay Roberts apologises for entirely losing a day, and proffers this hastily written, iambic stream-of-consciousness on the subject of Envy, which turns out to be more complex than ze’d anticipated.

How dare they shout to claim your starry skies?
You think that they’d have quite enough from birth
to satisfy their hunger, stop their cries –
it’s like they don’t appreciate the worth

of everything that’s handed to them – free
and gratis, not like you, who’s had to work
to claim what meagre scraps you’ve gathered – see?
It’s more than equal treatment while they shirk

responsibilities – it’s thoughtlessness
that irks you, when all you can do is think
what luxuries you’d milk from bitterness
while, all the while, you’re clinging to the brink

of giving up on being good and kind –
they all deserve a big piece of your mind.

– FR

Image from pixabay

#11 - Lament

Ironically enough, Fay Roberts was asleep (with a migraine) so couldn’t write Sloth last night. Hence it being late. (Ze thinks it’s likewise only fitting that ze’s chosen the sonnet form with the fewest rhymes…)

You can’t let tyrants rob you of your sleep;
you need some peace and quiet for a while.
Just let them rant and spill out all their bile;
if that’s what virtue looks like, they can keep
it, sticking to the herd with all the sheep.
Exert yourself? You’d rather run a mile
than keep up with the pious rank and file.
It’s better to lie low than take the leap.

But whispers filter through your sweet, white noise:
“This good man’s doing nothing…” outright lies!
You’re just recuperating former poise
(if wallowing was sport, you’d take the prize)
Ambition stalled – those others took your toys;
how dare they shout to claim your starry skies?

Photo by Stockcake

#7 - An Ardent Palate

Turns out at least one of you clever folks already guessed Fay Roberts’s theme and the topic of the last poem (Lust of the Seven Deadly Sins), so here’s Gluttony:

You’ll gorge yourself on all you might desire,
pick this and that, fill platters to the brim.
The feast arrayed in front of you inspires
more active souls to hustle to the gym.

That’s not your game – it’s all about the choices
that cause ascetics such a dreadful fright –
but here your inner toddler rejoices!
(Now clean your plate – aught else is impolite.)

The world is full of misery and heartache,
and people who insist on leeching joy,
so come on – might as well inhale this cheesecake,
and leave them to their schemes and scowls and ploys.

And though tomorrow’s gripe might make you weep,
you can’t let tyrants rob you of your sleep.

– FR

Picture from Dreamstime

#3 - Tempest

Fay Roberts writes: I’ve decided, for the moment, not to say what my seven are. They’re quite famous, so it will probably become apparent as I go along (or I might change my mind later and say anyway…). So anyway, wise Verily Aspie guessed in the comments already – this is Lust, of the Seven Deadly Sins.

The gateway to the seven stands right here.
You long to touch, but cannot quite commit
to all the things that you’re supposed to fear
(while this one claims it’s fine to just submit).

It’s natural to hope, it does no harm
to gaze upon what might, in time, be yours,
and how are you supposed to counter charm
designed to gloss (or venerate) its flaws?

You look, and look, and cannot look away;
spend all spare moments summoning the scenes.
Occasional indulgence has now swayed
to frequencies and formulas obscene.

And though you’re more than warmed now by this fire
you’ll gorge yourself on all you might desire.

– FR

Cripps/ Pink Lady courtesy of Markon