Sharp (an acrostic poem)

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Slicing through all the bull that was in his way

He cut to the heart of the matter with his acerbic wit

All the while looking damn good doing it

Reaching for a his negroni he took a satisfyingly bitter sip

Punctuating a perfect performance

Create (an acrostic poem)

Can’t make anything out of nothing

Really that’s a crock of bull

Everyone knows storytellers weave lies into whole cloth

And wrap you up inside nice and snug

That’s the stuff godhood is made of

Even if the magic eventually fades into memory

 

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