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Megan Sherman Feb 2018
Long live labour, for she is just
Her truest servants for public triumph lust,
In common solidarity,
International confraternity,
Marx saw arrow of eternity,
Vindicate workers history,
In pure and sublime destiny,
When ruse no longer mystery,
We rise up, vanquish calumny.

Verse of 1917 a rapture,
Harbor we a love of life and all its creatures,
Considering the workers to be teachers,
Marx, the most exquisite of their preachers,
Saw all workers hearts as twins,
Not stratified by cash for sins,
Alas for freedom all not sunny,
World captive runs with blood to march of money.

Arise ye children from your mistake,
Like wealth through which the devil spake,
But off our ******* like feathers shake,
Revolution as ears strive awake,
Our laugh to have and eat our cake,
Cake for all, not just Versailles,
A voluptuous but tortured mile.

Reds rancorous, with passion riled,
Solidarity can't be defiled,
By radical community beguiled,
Communism waking to go wild,
The devil lost at cosmic blackjack,
Thought Trotsky, peasant, didn't have the knack,
But we have dealt red lucky flush,
And vindication through us rush,
Victory tasted sweetest lush,
Devil's wits do lack.
Megan Sherman Feb 2018
Visceral energies of primordial fire,
Doth through cosmic sun aspire,
To inspire worship of the flame,
Givers of life, we are the same,
But Moon distinct by subtlety,
Pearl in undulating, seismic sea,
Of God, defiled by treads,
And bad flags salute by tyrant's heads.
Megan Sherman Feb 2018
Passion blossom sunk in soil,
Churn with Earth, dance of life,
Power with the earth embroiled,
Inspires worship of sun's rays,
Tigers of life, nature's loyalists,
Leap in to the horizon, bonny flying,
Rebels from the heart outwards,
As fierce hot and beaut as the bloom.
Megan Sherman Feb 2018
I sing but when the song crushed cruel
Heart cleft in twain for barbs of Christ
Imagines cage to be forever immortal
From which no captive soul desist

The flame of Love churn in my stubborn Heart
A fulsome glow by pride beget
For having palms in Lover's Art
Doth my misery abet
Megan Sherman Feb 2018
LOVE, it is, is not a lie,
Repressed as it may be,
For Love hath scattered Hearts in sky,
In divine revelry.
Morning gloom may thunder in,
But this will come to pass,
The roses bloom nevertheless,
In Life's hourglass.
Megan Sherman Feb 2018
I.

How well we know what the wild things do,
As Nature riots in the throng:
And there, her soul true, resplendent hue,
The creatures' voice unite in song,
Suffice to poets woo!

II.

Find me by the fire log, my friend,
While the sparks crackle as the magic flows,
Whose beauty Heaven dare not forfend,
Hath pilgrims rapt in throe,
As visions apprehend.

III.

Till the young ones gathered, bud and grow,
Here we are one, by no faith cleft,
By no reason I can show,
Are we of common Love bereft,
Hath pilgrims rapt in throe.
Megan Sherman Feb 2018
I.

All summer Passion's blossom blooms.
At noon, a sight, on which to swoon
And stir with luscious light apace.
Hearts churn in motion bright with Grace!
Feel them bud. Their Love applaud.
For gratitude we can afford.

II.
Forever and a day I strove,
These hands be comely to behove,
Psalms and paeans, Devotions true,
In which the cosmic fires brew,
Divinest music, Passion's rubric,
With Love's logic and Life's magic.

III.
A life I gave to craft my art,
That it world's beauty could impart,
And speak its grandeur--heavenly bliss,
To see the sunshine as a kiss,
There joy as this? Be not remiss,
To share the triumph Heaven has.
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