You'Re a Monarch When It Rains

Pretenders in the mouth like lemons. Hamartia. Is wishing Denying? Do I Deny You? A dirge by the pier is the darkness I hear when You are not here, when I tell myself I will always fear. Yet You visit, still, my lightless room and the Breath of Life permeates perfectly... You're a monarch when it rains, yet I cannot believe that through Your Windowpane You conceive me in my grievous hive mind You conceive me at Your side eternally. You're a healing Psalm unsold; one timeless Video; You command the bass and volume, and never does it fawn You, on the Stare-ee-oh as violet beach radio waves yield black lung therapy outside Your Window of Living Stars, far beyond these gray droplets of Now; shards of glass that threaten our lifeblood and pummel our lives, Pummel our lives like: "Dangle hearths of cooling firelight before my eyes; dangle the gun out of reach: your demise, for I advise how you cut off my tongue. It is a gift till it screams in your hands: 'It is time again to boomerang a black whale! an actor's life! a wife awaits below, the wife is Below, welcoming Icarus.'" Then when it rains, I pour, defeated along the shore, believing that I am alone, forgetting what once was evermore beyond my second heart, this deceitful heart that is a fool forever without Your Music, the Music that gave way to the heart of the deepest connection I'd ever known untouchable absolute unhindered wild wild wildebeest of the Silver Forest wild Beauty taming cyclones staying the hand of storms North Sea uproar quieted... You are the Muse of my jungle as a sunrise kissing the lightning-charred tree; the One who sits and stares, sits and stares... whispers lovely tufts of care: "A well sprang forth of your indigo eye, As winter's ballad above our sky Hums cooling round as diamond sound Alights and sighs when evil dies. Across the Lake of Acquiescence, Duty-bound in Hill's a Pleasance Known to all and to ourselves: A Gilded Fire's jubilance delves." Here is the weather: it is physical. Here is the symphony: it is spiritual. Of the latter You are forever, and always will Your existence stave off and laugh at the hand of Reap, And bring The Smile to this soldier's broken mirror face, so that he may always proclaim: "You're a Monarch when it Rains. If I held the key at one time, I was blind to the ant and her ways. If I claim an olden grimoire sublime, I am the sleaze in my wretched groove haze. East-west gleaming amber gaze reveals Heaven."