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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It's been a little more and two score Since I revisited all of my most treaured ghostly line from my poetic past Dipped and dabbed my nib in ink like a knife through endless scraps of paper wondering if I had a point Then melancholy I yawn then sigh and upon this journey I do go Underneath an infinite celestial graveyard of starlight to forge a path ahead To ignite the dangers that lie around the very next corner and bend Searching I for a fairytale to call my own and frog princess to kiss Where we ourselves both marry for love with a wanton passion and desire that culminates in us growing old together and dying in each other's warm embrace Not under old termite ridden wooden floorboards and stairs creak in an estate house so dank and bleak of grand expectations Under the brevity of the passing ghosts and shadows of the leftovers still patiently awaiting to cross over Said the Crow to the rainbow splitting hairs over the Reapers scythe regarding which color to dye his feather plumage The things I once used to love I somehow grew to detest and vilify as chores even tedium now finds me a note I stink I glow in pink I once new love but then I blinked Death is dead once more I often think I am the reason for all of the world's problem but then again I probably ain't What I am is the best qualified person for the actual job I am the epitaph that's written on the cenotaph plaque that no one takes the time to stop and read merely viewed as something annoying in one's way I am the creeping shadow the size of rat , bunny cat's that scale the Gotham like cathedral walls up to rooftop to make the Liver-Birds scowl from dusk till dawn Whilst listening out for the pitching and cresting frequency of the turbines and blades from the wind farm upon Frankenstein's castle on the hill Mistress of the pale rose deftly ballet dancing the breeze from the inside out of a green mile prison bar I want I wish I cast my net like a fisherman in famine times from the whence the sun comes up and later drops As this years crops have failed the once plentiful fertile soil is now gathering up dust underfoot from the elders dancing and pleading to God to save the day and for the rain to come So gather all yee faithful Put on and dress up in your Sunday best Spray yourself in floral scent And let the world outside relent
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