Not Picture of nor moving frame
Can compensate a once done deed,
An all conquering lust for flesh
No wandering hand can deceive.
Inept in man burns his desires
A weakness?
Untrue?
Once believed.
A foggy face though haunting still,
Seems more ideal
than one of dreams.

Seeds sown by one who'll never reap
the fruits of time
of lessons learned.
The fall from high now feels redeemed,
And Grace,
by virtue; honour earned.
Yet,
Not seen by eyes intentions wished,
Wrought changes made in Vain?
How sentiments insist on this,
Mistakes not made again.

A hoppin' head though self inflicted,
Seems just rewards for the night before,
When dance and Craic took centre stage
We drank and drank and drank some more!

Conversation flowed and ebbed and weaved,
From God to Goals and all between,
Would seem not so immaculately conceived
And Messi's three defy belief.

Club bound strolls turn to canter
With thoughts of chasing tail and skirts,
Greetings to all with friendly banter,
Decked out in shoes and pants and shirts.

Through goggled eyes we viewed the night
Where dog was fox and frog was prince
Awakened by a nasty fright
Post Haste! Not seen or heard from since.

A house of cards since torn apart
And spirits broke before restarting.
A crow, whose ****** circles fast
Smells decay now from afar.

The marrow picked, and bleed, once tasted,
Fills the guts of those who've stuffed.
And fumbled in a greasy til
And still want more.
Insatiable. Craven.

Now rats who race to break the bones
Do hurry and scurry to survey these heaps,
All corners kept
quietly
questioning Questioning,
Festering, Venturing
these treacherous tendencies.

What once caused irk
now drives berserk
in shadows lurk acquiescent clerks.
Whose duteous work,
Cloyed wolves 'mongst herds,
venerate without exertion.

Can't *** the plants to break enchantment.
Now rubble strews the once green pastures,
Serpentine, exiled from gardens,
This concrete tomb, once womb of Gaea.

How barren plains once bloomed; need rain.
Her balding dusty broken frame
Now chokes with hate for beast with brain
Who slash deep wounds in soft terrain
Contempt, with only glutenous gain.
They reign.

To whom? And Why?
Do Men's souls cry?
In darks of night
On bleakest morn?

To what I say?
Do these men pray
for comforts 'gainst the deeds of Man?
Who torch and blaze,
**** and raze
to the ground
this Others land.

The Women cry
and shriek and wail.
In vain.
In temples set alight.
those strong stone walls,
Now barred up doors,
Protect this flock
You
Lord of light.


And now men praise!
Call forth his name.
For in his name they duly came.
And to proclaim?
Death.
And only death
Is His lasting vein.