¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
please
bear with me through
these turns,
for I believe it gets
much better..

i need help.

..much better than this
winding Caltrop
Way

please help me mind
these twists

no..

"not the TWISTS!

the twists betwixt
the ends gone
listing on
a list of modes or
measures—
lest my brooding
BOOM.

So vast,
and so cosmic,
so chasmic..
circumstasmic?

Could any of this be
happening?

Happenstance?

Perhaps a
dance—
a DANCE!

of eloquence enlisting—
of parables b'twixting
between..

..or was it betwixt?

betwixt!

the twist is
a'mix the
boundaries amidst
the sounding
absentees amiss
and all their revelries
gone missing,

they're so lost
among this misting lee."

i came upon this sanity.
alas!
this simple explanation,
what has brought me
to my knees
at last—

for

this hope so fixed
to kiss me,
as would bangles
on the wrist be,

then went
"begging and
dredging and
picking and *******;
through grand affair in
blissful beds
of rose and posey petals
pushing hedgerows!!

more and more
a bushless exposé
as days count down—
a maze a'drowned
in thornful
sortie!!

scornful,

hastily adorned and full of
fate-encrusted memories
of a trustless
misgiving.

My sin has shone its boldness
and has left me living cold.

**please, god,
don't let me
die this way!"

this heart,
o lord,
it yearns
away..

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
You sure do like to play your games,
and I like mine, alright,
but you prefer to play the day,
where I play mine at night.

You garner this and that and let
the shoaling eye befriend
with a toothy grin—the pit, wherein
you choose to apprehend.

Alas, your game is rigged to wreck;
to brave, a sure chagrin!
Yet, mind your plight enmired in spite,
for I will always win.

The day we met, the day began.
I played your game as due,
but now the light is nigh to end;
the morrow starts anew.

I warn you of the end and still
you caustically abuse,
and like the fool, you broke the rule—
adorn a wicked ruse!

The turn is mine to spend as I
see fit to let diffuse.
Your tooth and eye reveal your lie,
my wily, darling muse.

And as the dusk'll take its stance,
what ethic will you choose?
To show no shame and chance my game
means I will watch you lose.

You capped your fate; I do berate—
what bitter, shocking news!
Hate breeds hate, it's gettin' late;
that's quite a nasty bruise.


Free Play: [ 50 ]                
                                         . . . [ 00 ]

— GAME OVER —
Thanks for playing!

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
Heav'n rains a pillar wide
'pon Éire's bounty plent'
n' shylight licks the gold'n peaks
atop her jad'n spires.

but those betray'n her bless'n
bled to feed a foul d'sent
n' they that fed her armies
now d'cumb to fuel the fires.

mundus vult decipi
ergo decipiatur
~

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
alas,
my dearest
Xanthippe,
I do so pine
for thee—

arrestless
tender touch
what's left
mine eyes
b'labored,
beauty!

gen'rous hums
the crest
aroun'neath
ambrous
skye's
seduction,

'pon thy leather,
set me down,
coerced aback
by thine
induction..

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
I am but the flower
nigh the wild fox's den
I feel earthen worms
that crawl about
my sultry toes and then

they move the dirt for me
relaxing me
I stand *****
in wait for thee

I watch the *****
nurse her pups
and though she has quenched
my love before
I desire a name and
something more

I so desire the honey bee
without her I feel untended
much unlike the tended progeny
of neighbor mother mending me

though standing guard
I wait for thee
to call my name
and fall on me

to drone a tune
and dance on me
and rob of me
the toil of seed

for a wildflower
by another name
should thenceforth
be deemed
a ****

'til the
nomen
falls atop
mine pate as
favor of the
honeybee.