Solomon…, Solomon…, kingly grace
Imperfectly coordinated with she-mind twisters.
Wild chelation:
Some cofactors, some inhibitors.
One lesson too many.

It comes in vertical embrace,
Upward journey into the wee of night.
London bells, like I have heard.
Sweet sleep perturbed by zazzy waves
And tick-tock race, chasing my dreams.

It comes so soon as it fades so fast,
Racing tracks to no end.
Talk yester-in, then the reach.
Splattered sweated ink on whitened blank
With plans to feed to it.

Plan for it, work by it and rest in it.
Think headwise and not waistwise.
Head seed first, ends in fame.
Waistful thought, ends in pain.
Aborted tomorrow is fathered by ignorance.

Those that fore-look, rejoice in it.
Those that wish-watch, regret in it.
Today’s seed is its tree.
Take the pill for its pain
And tomorrow is all gain.

Was it not for joy they praised your ‘fairest’ birth
And plaited hair unend, your weavy piggy tail
Like lily grown… on alluvial plain?

Was it not a hallo placed on your rosy head
As mother pulled on end, and you leapt on holy ground
Like Papal’s pet… and sanctuary blessed?

Was it not all “yea” they nodded to agree,
That a future bright and temple well garnished
Will break the curses…earned in decades past?

How the heart of stone did oust the flesh of good
Prided deluded beauty, hewed for filthy dogs.
Saying with all zest…“it’s now my life”

Is it not a shame that every Jack has seen,
Foiled and ployed with fille, so tender and so dear
Like roses red… plucked at ease and will?

Is it not a shame that every Jack has caused
Unwholesome dent on flossy smoothy silk,
Unspeakable merch…deeds of rusty spite?

Is it not a shame that every Jack has felt
Fair Angelina faded from filthy crusty perks,
Angelic at birth… but fallen down to grass?  

Is it not a shame that every Jack has seen
Pure flow of red and sealed treasure robbed,
Previously bloomed… for the worthy “he”?

Live a public life in a private room
Like you would not dare in all senses full
Beckon on crawlers with witless fun
Credentials exposed and signatures unzipped

It is only a stage…so they say
Showcase an act…reward some friends
Punish the fiends…in **** pretense
false rewards for borrowed talents

Real friends in life…may not emoji click
Real wolves in mind…but friends by finger flick,
Hallowed patronage…perfect in falsehood.
Pictures and status…served to dangerhood

Blade the stitches that once were mended
Crash the home…popularity cheapened
Enlarge the circles of fishers hookers
Full in foolishness and wisdom killed

More pound, the techman…and less, the player.
Seekers of fun from peppered ghost
Hookers’ desire and vultures delight.
Awake o e-man and protect the real man.

In the olden days when Odin was here...
Ancestors, I heard had bat for a toast,
But from a roast.
Generational gap in pages flipped
Covered by the new breeds in reads
Have discovered death lurking in the dead.
What do we have here?
A clime. No, a county,
No, a country, but a people of all colours
Upon a boast not to roast the toast,
Fishes out death with her teeth.
While the creature performs the dance of death,
Strangled between unfriendly roof and tongue.
The column, the elution, the ****
The filter, the blood the virus
The mouth, the cough, the mask
The cold, the fever, the plague
Cries and accusations...
The forbidden must be forfeited.