first love was easy as a stroke
the body of april flesh,
strobes of light
on busty beats,
Bright ships unplundered
love was easy at first
the act itself
beyond fulfilments need
Then Winters call
we shed our skins
we had no calling
other than our own
just two beasts bucklering's in the night
Our pages fulfilled
we await tomorrow's snow
Masterpiece of an Indio
Legacy of one native Bravo
As I gaze at the piece
Memories of gladiators seize
Under the roofs of soft floors
Are bloodsheds on hard, scratched floors
Have you ever wondered
Why warriors are devoid?
Of worldly possessions unplundered
Die with swords unparanoid
Heroes or heels are subjects
Painted in oil, not Aztecs
Brushed and colored in blood
Mustache of a Maestro in a cloud
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