Monomaniacal Mist
I am the finite of the infinite for the shadows bleed my presence
My habitual hunger is imminent and toxicant time is of the essence
Like the serpent swallowing sorrows slithering to sanitize your soul
In view of marauding morrows whispering winds wavering console
As a malodorous mist, I appear a demi-god of recyclable tangled time
A fallen angel fostering fear bringing forth a new pernicious paradigm
I come within denigrative dreams a diabolical debacle demanding end
A Svengali of silent screams an oblivious organism that will transcend
A jaded jackal conjured by the broken hearts withering to their demise
The grotesque genie that departs only to enslave before it’s downsize
I am the confiscating conqueror of night banishing your barren breath
Like a fallacious futile frostbite a feculent frozen fire ... for I am death.
April.03.2018
The Life of Death
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
in the dead of (winter) night
in the dead of winter (night)
a mime was executed for stealing pancakes
the gunpowder tango sounded
over the burnt black bones of Bastille
wretchedness comes in manifold reverie
in distempered visions of epochal disasters
mime's widow's now loitering enshrouded
dismal and dismantled into the strawberry
storm of desolate lament on a horizon
monomaniacal embers of deceased mementos
shuddered after the rain of infirmity
day dawned once again with frolicsome frogmarch
in shrubberies echoing the ghastly romance
friendly fiends and fiercer fury of mountain tops
are inversed by limb contorting boredom
in the dead of (winter) night
in the dead of winter (night)
THEIR MAJESTIES
The appearance of lions attests to their majesty
A creature by Man infused with all sorts of fantasy
There are humans whose brains are afflicted with zoanthropy
They think by killing to absorb a lion's vitality
So they pursue and steal his life with alacrity
Lions have none whom they fear
Except when the monomaniacal predator called man is near
Heavy the head who wears a king's crown
For the lowly will steal it to call it their own
Not understanding kingship resides never in claws and fur
It's in your spirit which the thieves cannot incur
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