—-“Burial of my gloom”—-


image

But pray:
I don’t gleam beyond veto
blurred horns of euphemism
thy euphoria has sent
whispers of sad story untold
under my running fateless fleet.

Kneeling:
the prayer started by the priest
time winks at me in haste
the flying irony of culture
and he a philosopher
the gravest mediocrity of time.

Hell:
help me save my owl
she is seeping away
blowing beyond a pauper’s folk
900 years and am still
a replica of a casket appeal

Shame:
let’s pray to hell
seek her freaking smell
bath her purpled ore
and her aura shall soon
snare me to the tunnel
so deep and obscure.

The Village Thinker © 2014

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