Beetles creep & earthworms writhe In soil and leafage mould Where men, in towers' ivory Broach loud and souls are sold. Honesty and purity Enflower places plain But pompousness and leather hearts Merely promulgate distain. Distancing the words, effete, Conjure portals cold Whilst wallowing in self esteem Seldom glints of gold. Instead the psalms of simple chime The bells of true release, Where meek and mild and unposessed sweat blood and bleed for peace. Where the stroke of brush, unfettered, Lets the masterpiece unfold, And children sit enthralled, only, When tales of truth are told.
M.
Prodded to invoke a response to Darrell Landstrom's trenchant verse "Oh Friends of Twilight"