autumn-cannibal

What went wrought                                     When wit went in it What wild tongue                                     With words wrote wrong Wise whilst written                                     Weird when spoken Well worth Whisp'ring                                     Through well wetted whistles Wordsworth wrenching                                     Clouds are broken

Tis in your love, my sweet, that I am drowned And dragged to darkened depths by care alone By razor thorned compassion, I am crowned Left bleeding in devotion matched by none Please spare me from the burning of your joy The scolding of a pagan like embrace Midst flaming flesh there stands a broken boy Emblazoned by the lips upon your face Your emanating warmth, it chokes me so My Queen, your glow can melt the very air None can withstand the aura of my beau Except for me, a fool who dreamed to dare Despite unholy smile and hateful laugh So pleasant is this blessed aftermath

I gazed to look upon this morning's Rome As sunlight breached the towering scape To welcome waking Gods who traipse The pillars clad in glass The bold centurion guard begin their march With praise to grounded coffee beans Don midnight armour, leave their dreams To guard the citadel The concrete trenches tremble at the sound Of chariots, self drawn, that cough And splutter smog, as drivers curse From fist to sharpened tongue Philosophers in fine Armani robes Beg answers of the blotted sky Their questions torn as bullets fly Through blood soaked alleyways The coliseum filled with craving fans To roar as lions pitch and hit The

A face on which a laugh cannot be tamed Nor shift the eyes from their transfixing glance A masquerade, for means that won't be named To mask a truth, or pointless circumstance? Emotions fly but lose their wings to pride Or hatred, to which Atlas could not bear A mould to trap the thoughts which dwell inside But always shall such thoughts be stirring there A friendship lost to rumoured haunting weeps To mourn the blank expression on your face But now, it seems, the scar, it merely sleeps Behind a mask, a comrade now must place Unspoken truths, when lost to fleeting lies, Remain to some the softest lullabies

They traipse the earth and crush its beauty born Malicious screams that face a wincing sneer The crude and curse replace the tooth and horn As none would let their fragile souls appear They seek respect and yet are pitied so As all do slouch through time and meet disgrace But such is not from roots or mocking foe A glimpse at smeared reflections of their face To lead the life of screeching wench or fool The beauty must be in the eyes of thee For not one man of honour has the tool To find a trace of virtue there to see They plague our streets as razors rip the skin As they prevail would leave a void within

A sloth encaged in such a livid cell A blade of grass midst drought and flame and flood The shrill and lurid screams which bid you well Who feed on cowards cry and angered blood I feel amongst the wolves, and I, a horse They circle to surround and rouse my fear They do not bark and yet in voice as coarse Do ask your name and dreams which brought you here My curse is to be great amongst the lay A prospered mind that's scarred by tooth and claw Too few have such to prosper in this way And never have I craved my loved one more My age within this place will end in time And so I once more gaze on the sublime