The blackened fog that veils nocturnal lust
has draped the virtue of a virgin dawn
while carnivores, entombed beneath the dust,
unleash to prey upon a heedless fawn.
The garish moon shall leer its pallid glare
into the pitch of night where shadows wane.
In luring light, it's captured in a snare
with ligatures that cut into the vein.
But blood flows ebon through the twilight throes.
In darkness, color’s essence will conceal.
This night will not receive my midnight rose
for scarlet nectar covets a reveal.
Fear not my purist flower of the night,
your petals will unveil in morning’s light.
Categories:
ligatures, angel, anxiety,
Form: Sonnet
This song comes from some place
And its dancers, with hips up
Are going to the same place
And this song does not stop
Wither comes this song they dance
No one knows
Thither goes the sum who dance
Hope God knows
It is, the siren song
Finely tuned from some sweet lore
It is, the siren song
Whose dance is but a sweet chore
So enchanting is this song
That even they who cannot dance
Can be heard singing along
Joining the band at any chance
While the wind blows them, wildly on
And they heed no call on this trip
To God’s city; Nay to Babylon
For the song has hard its grip
Vices veneered as virtues
Prettified in bird suits
To conceal the grave grues
On its convoluted routes
Don’t dance, I say do not dance
Albeit that it allures
For thereto, lies dire durance
Lavished with ligatures
Categories:
ligatures, evil, fairy,
Form: Rhyme