Nun In Friar Small-Bro's Grave---Yard Part 1
The midnight clings to dwarfish kings
while robot drones, adorning thrones,
kneel, bowing to the Old...Guard.
Arrhythmic clocks and wooden box
grace FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
The diplohacks, like melting wax,
have swept along the clueless throng,
some dying for a life...guard.
And Nun, alone, has beached their bones
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
Beyond the streams, a raven screams
at loser fish that swarm and swish;
Nun slowly drains her dreams...jarred.
There are no thanks along the banks
near FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
While FRiar smiles and prowls the aisles
the hierarch obeys the bark
from maw that oozes pure...lard.
There's much ado throughout the zoo
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
Well, FRiar’s pets are in a sweat;
he calls the tunes near burning dunes
and taps his cloven feet...charred.
They roast in rooms, their future tombs,
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
His myrmidons, they drool and fawn
reciting verse near FRiar’s hearse,
extolling wild the van...guard.
Remote controls abet the trolls
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
With faces straight, in bent debate,
they advertise their empty lies
to every passing re...tard.
Grey zombies groom white flies in bloom
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
continued in Part 2
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
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