Tale of the Asp
Burlap marinated in back water ponds,
that's what the spirit of truth often dons
always forever and mahogany strong...
pillar of marble in cyclones of neglect
hold tight to its wings,glide above feiry pits.
Untruth, the drunk weaving down neon road
a pair of vertical eyes, a million pot holes..
always the deciever, never yearns to give back
so much fleeter than what you'd expect,
fools fancy chasing the tail of the Asp.
Truth, the cay of salvation circled by sharks
lone firefly ripping the mask from the dark
gilded loom of the humbled and homespun heart
Untruth, supreme seductress of venomous ID
whirlpool to water colored hearts and smiles
living to brand death back into pure eyes.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2018
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