Heavenly Louche
As the essenes of
Eden play lovely
quartets, a brief
interlude o' mine.
Oh. . . boisterous meadows
of entrancing enthralls
so fine.
As angels hearken
the harmonies of
our precious St. Uriel,
defiant.
The whimsy's of
bitter attempts
for lovely laughing
girls, made bitter
pantomime.
Oh, the Louche,
the heavenly Louche.
Its embrace
of vigorous
nostalgias
with little excuse.
So sorry,
so sorry,
here we are
oh mighty Zeus.
Falling from grace,
as pale a ghost
as the infinite
truth.
Oh! The Louche,
the heavenly Louche.
Keeper of secrets,
ours and yours,
together we're found. . .
frequenting ,
the inviting,
narcotics lounge.
A testimony of
love, why the essence
of St. Gabrielle,
you are,
you are.
As St. Uriel played
a ballad so fine,
I found myself
begging for more
amphetamine!
The Louche,
the heavenly Louche.
Copyright © Trevor Morse | Year Posted 2006
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