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Alexander Luna Poem
When Death, the vast unknown, and all therein
Whose thoughts tremor feel I without reserve,
Always has been this strain upon my skin,
Absent courage and woe do strike a nerve.
Alas, when I’m with you, I fear Death not,
In short a time, my fear, I do suspend,
To be with thine, whose zeal I love a lot
Thy feel, thy touch, do make all dread transcend.
A test to know my love, in sooth, is real
Innate, with love, so filled, Death hath no clout,
For all, love poor, fear hath too much to deal
The world may end, yet I, remain devout.
To keep her long, I free myself of me,
Only thy heart hath to look once, here be.
Copyright © Alexander Luna | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Alexander Luna Poem
To be up is to be exalted by one’s own self,
Where conceit reigns high upon the shelf,
And self camera shots of high decadence,
Have brought forth absence of altruistic prevalence.
Self love invigorates the status quo,
But not without its toll upon the ego.
An age of likes has bestowed upon the many,
A single photograph can bring about plenty.
Nostalgia remains for selfless virtue,
To whence modesty prevailed over hairdo.
Is it not the void within men that seeks appraisal,
For the keen features that lie ever so hazel?
Be not lovers of these “perilous times”,
As foreseen by St. Paul for their vainglorious crimes.
Copyright © Alexander Luna | Year Posted 2012
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