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WL Schuett May 2020
Black bag hanging on
a yellow wall .
Temptations most foul .
A gathering of innocents.
The reckoning of the darkness
the mercy of the careless dawn .

Trying to let the pain escape
from a bent back Orchid
to a backlit heart shaped bush .
In the dominion of
the night grace ,
steep stairs and
wind walks .

Wander eyes silent
in the misty morn .

Night flies and thunder slips
as echoes cast the spells
of the god of
emptiness and despair.

From grains of salt
She emerges
trying to put the
pressure asunder.
Not an unkindly Angel
flowing from the
lonely light .
Who shall deliver me
my sweet surcease .
WL Schuett Apr 2020
As I sit down to
paint an image
That rolls through my eyes
like thunder through the valley.

Music all around
a ripple in the ether.
Used as a cats paw
from the misty East
to the dark veil
of midnight shadows .

Vinegar and honey .
Freedom our glory
entitlement our tragedy.
A broken anvil
of shadow men
to a fearful God .

We met at the twilight
of twilight .
As the waning moon
Floats on the slithering river.

Praying for vengeance
into the décolletage.
Mosaics of pain
and betrayal
inspiring me to create.
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