spelling backwards through time,
stroke by blurry stroke
a maiden's coal-black hair regales
the flattery from her lips... and so the doom
-- and boon of a crimson warrior's arm --
was drawn from speech a flame,
and kindled mind to burn away for lust,
one speaker fed and doubly fraught
by goddess's
invention brought
to give away his name and trust,
for doppelgangers' games
and beauty
to consent~
that trollish abysm our aching selfhood
deems unworthy, war can celebrate:
iconic genius symbol may encourage,
it may remembrance windows of our history~
but only breath, and inner sight so keen
on solid strength of living fact
can triumph in the plain!
some semblance of an older wisdom
strains to orate still, and lust itself afar,
but brawn and tested fibrous body build
must turn the page of time;
and this, to know the truth withstood
that vision
of a perfect youth
forever,
one start and line without an end,
a floating dance of pulling under waves
that never waves as being surely does
like no ancient-honest country-prophet ever saw--
thus, remnants of the wisdom from a fallen mind;
and so he fell to her and had not her for long...
she had a wider window, immortal panes,
this temptress
suppleness of limb to shock
and shake the bones of foolish learning,
that thinks itself imbued with everlasting fame.
it was a mossy light
of eyelash shine
and sheen
to woo
the wisdom out,
electric sense to lure the hapless sap
into a brutish trap: to learn alone the
atheletes pathos, relearn the heart-race
from a chest of seemless vigour,
from lungs of endless winds
and legs of trunkish growth the
channels and the prism of an empty skull
instead of learned ships and foolish mimes of finer times--
he does the bidding of her will.
.