"agog" poems
Mesmerised by mysteries,
marvel those curious
agog to drift off.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 5:20 AM UTC
Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts
The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away
to a space and time impenetrable
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.
Loitering on roads without hurrying feet
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore
passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels
forever barred with no exit
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self
plummeting into a black hole
The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,
all else is dead…… !
with dreary nights ahead
that shall not know another morrow
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC
The
Decider-in-Chief
made
another
hard
decision,
rebebilitatin
a debilitating
Gaddafi.
The
Agog
Decider
sleekly
peeked
into the
bleak
soul
of the
master
Bedouin.
The
Pious
Decider
peered
pretty
deeply,
so its
hard to tell
what his
arcane
rebelations
revealed.
Some say
The
Jaundiced
Decider,
saw the
desert
bleeding
deliciously
malicious
sweet crude
onto the
scabby
tongues
of
Halliburton
Executives
while
Big Time
Vice
Dickey Boy
******
a petrol
nozzle
dry,
licking
the dripped
drops
that
drizzled
from the
shoot
hole,
so as
not to waste
a precious drop
to satiate
the black
viscous
goo
coursing
through
the ebony
veins of his
chingling
heart.
Others
say
The
Condoning
Decider
sized up
the man
and saw
a brother-in-arms
in the fight
against
The Evil Doers;
yet failed to
see the
revolting
obscenities
his new
comrade-in-arms
inflicted
upon his
own body
politic.
The
Forgetful
Decider,
blessed
with amnesia
forgot
Lockerbie and
applauded
BP's royal
court of
justice
for
pardoning
all perps.
The
Oblivious
Decider's
near
sightedness
failed to
foresee
a brewing
blow-back
amassing
in the
desert
winging
its way
home
on the
blasting
sands of
a blistering
Saharan
sirocco.
The
Pollyannish
Decider
envisioned
grand
spectacles,
only happy
visions of
Beyonce,
JZ, Usher
and the
Def Jam
Buddha
Russell
Simmons
yodeling
filthy
lucre
tunes,
sending
giggling
tweets
while
partying
down
with
Muammar's
posse
of martinets
and
way cool
far out
crazy
execs
drunk
with the
power
that blinds
the eye to
all discernment.
The Decider
decides.
Music Selection:
Lady Ga Ga
Beyonce,
Telephone
Oakland
3/3/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
Autumn, like an Indian classical dancer, dressed up
Arrives with soft rhymes and quickening steps
She comes aglow, aglow with a rare beauty
Dancing to the bracelet's tinkling song
Her floating robe falls in deep folds around her feet
As she mesmerizes all with moves full of grace
Viewing the flaming colours in assorted display
We are apt to wonder if Nature carefully saved up
All that is best for the closing grand finale
Autumn tints look enchanting all through the land
With pervading green, offset by crimson, citrus yellow
Flaming red, lustrous gold and a faded russet
The air stays crisp and sweet in the ripening fields
While stray clouds ramble in flawless turquoise sky
When autumn is thus all agog like a frenzied dervish
It gives us morbid pictures of death and decay
The trees wrestle to free themselves of their worn cloaks
Causing a cascade of withering autumn leaves
Now they fall scattered in endless stream and lie in piles
Like charred carcasses after a fierce forest fire
The rustle of dry leaves blown by the wind
Falls in our ears with the gabble of migrating birds
Pale sunshine sifts through leafless trees of maple and oak
All those leaves once stayed regal in stations high
But now tossed out like worthless chaff
They come nose diving and fall several meters below
Spreading a hazel curtain over the moist earthen crust
When trampled mercilessly by careless feet
They silently mourn their thankless fate
Graying that comes at the end of each autumnal fall
Reminds us of the pall of gloom that awaits
It is disturbing like the parting song of birds
As they fly southward before the fall of winter
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
.
and your mug shot's shining through
it's a vision true (but the subject's taboo)
all ugly here
morning sunshine breakfast table autumn cool
you're poised to speak a fly lands on your lolling spoon
then i stand up merry
i make my vital move the table backs away distressed
your eyes raise
i flop open my faminous mouth and let the fumes draw in
Surprise !
(no time for you to hold surplus breath -
- form an expression - make any objection)
mechanism disjoints like the raw riches
i whip the plumb weight of my head and strike
mouth-chomp-grip over your scalp
and i am working you in
with swift jaw shifts and hingery
i **** on you with a smile and gullet
(past photos of you shuffle glaucous before my inner eye)
yap sock muscle i operate gumming on your head
(ours was the world ; we got so lazy)
budging in your hair dampened by my saliva
(our timid first meeting at a bar)
and airway and my teeth softly folding back
(us in bed-us in bed-us-in-bed)
and whole hog jaw agog
(the tourist we made as a couple)
i dilate and distend crouch low to take your weight
(the rise and falter of your sleeping chest)
upend your hands panic typing in the air
(the eyes of your investment in me)
your feet flinging the heft back and forth
your shoulders break in and forward folding
my chest cracks and wells
(gifts we gave that touched heart and others that fell short)
a complete engulfing meal of you
(your childhood antidotes and teenage feelings we discussed)
down my soft disposal
(all my memories of us in a fizz
and all the inaccuracies)
...and then i head off to hibernation
ferrying an idea that ' i have you now '
that perhaps you were my enemy
all this time
and i am digesting the beast
(what a feast !)
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 9:39 PM UTC
The oxygen tastes so familiar
I’m sure that I've breathed this before
The day trickles in through the curtains
The draft shuffles under the door
The sunlight ambushes my pillow
And forces me further a field
The cat at the door wants his breakfast
The bells of the church are all peeled
But there's little to gain by awakening
To remind me of all that I miss
When I hold you its like you're a statue
And you push me away with a kiss
The cars rattle by on their business
And the postman enrages the dog
The wind asks around for directions
And leaves all the shutters agog
My quilt is beginning to stifle
And my neck, with a threatening creak
Gives a preview of oncoming headaches
In a language too easy to speak
But uncomfortable I persevere
With a risible snore and a hiss
Because soon I'll turn over to face you
And you'll push me away with a kiss
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
Is there anything as special
As a sister's love?
They are right there with you
When push comes to shove!
They fight for you
Have light for you
To show you that they care
They grow with you
And sow with you
The mem'rys you both share
Sometimes they may not agree
Sometimes even fight
But that's because they want the best
And they know what's right!
It's my sister's birthday
And I want her to see
She is near and she is dear
In my memory
So here is a story
I remember from her past
It tells of her character
She's a fighter to the last!
~~<♡>~~
When my sister was still going to the University of Arizona here in Tucson, she had a motorcycle. Which had a proclivity for breaking down. Well, it was getting on toward summer. And the bike broke down many miles from where her mechanic was located. She had no money to get it towed. So my hundred and twenty pound sister pushed that heavy motorcycle all the way to the dealership! The mechanic was agog!
He couldn't believe she had lugged that motorcycle all that way! He told her, "Honey, you have some *****
This is the way my sister is. Beautiful, brilliant, and brave!
I am very proud of her, and I'm honored to be her sister!
♡ Catherine
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
I wish I had a thousand trips around our lovely star
So that I could go back and forth to kingdoms near and far.
To soar forever, taking time, enjoying every bit,
And bathing in the sky of love for every mind I lit.
The bows I'd take, the vows I'd make, new friends for every day.
I'd trek alone, all by myself, about the Milky Way.
I'd smile back and share the tears of strangers and of kin.
I'd live my life and help live theirs – no virtue and no sin.
I'd fly with bats and swim with whales across the ocean blue.
I'd walk the line, I'd take the stage, I’d chuff and churn for you.
I'd learn to live and learn to love and learn to breathe again.
I’d salvage bygone knowledge that I’m but another man.
I'd break the ice, I'd warm the hearts, I'd open all the doors
Which lead right to the fields of stars as my life runs its course.
I'd reap and rove, I'd rave and roam, relentlessly reborn,
Reluctant to let go but still – I’d mend the pages torn.
I’d show myself – and let it spread – the message of pure love:
First love yourself, thy neighbour then, and last – the sky above,
Find strength within, the courage true, the potency of wit,
And don’t regret the choices made nor every second split.
I’d crawl and dash and dive and rise, oblivious of time.
I’d juggle fates and bend the rules, incessant in my prime.
I’d teach and preach, I’d do and dare, defying night and day.
I’d swear and slur, I’d speak and stare as my time ticks away...
But life’s too short, and I don’t get to have one thousand trips
And all I want to ask for is a plethora of blips –
A-blurred, aghast, agog, alight, astonishingly apt –
I’d be forever in their debt, tumultuously rapt.
And on my final trip around, I'd love to sail away…
To throw that fond glance at the moon
And die another day.
October – Movember ‘16
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
A log on the river
Time keeps on flowing
The past comes quicker
Than the future can keep growing
No more retrospective
Only blinders forward
No more fresh perspective
Only preying to an earthly lord
When the future is waiting
Nobody can stay
To maintain your daydream
Again ends the day
A fighter against the current
Gets stuck in time
A victim less prurient
Than the status quo’s kind
No longer is the present
So long is the future
Condemned to be a resident
Of a time so impure
All we do and see
Only a chip in the log
Flowing against our plea
To stop and stare agog
No more wonderment
Desire long gone for us
A race without an end
Slowly approaches the finish
But waves crash even in the river
Divine nature swaying in the balance
Fighting for our lives, we find a giver
Beaten against a timely phalanx
A river runs and grows weary
As our oars are sacrificed
A happy race no longer cheery
Our hopes and dreams put on ice
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 4:04 AM UTC
It was only a tiny village then
Away from the thoroughfare,
Had existed since I don’t know when
With a grassy village square,
There were only seven ancient cars
In the narrow village streets,
And none of them travelled very far
For the shop stocked milk, and treats.
It hadn’t seen much of progress since
The days of old King John,
Who’d lost his jewels in The Wash, by Mintz
Near the town of Oberon,
The villagers there were set in ways
That caused nobody harm,
But when Lars came from Oberon
There was cause to feel alarm.
For Lars was the local planner for
The town of Oberon,
He’d dragged it kicking and screaming
Into the century just gone,
He’d widened streets, and cancelled Meets
In the old stone Mason’s Hall,
By bulldozing their building, leaving
Folk with a low stone wall.
He’d passed it all with an ordinance
That had given him total power,
The council caved to his arrogance,
All that he did was glower,
He put street lights on the corners, and
He acted like a prince,
And when he was done with Oberon
He set his sights on Mintz.
He drove on down to their village square
And he said it wouldn’t do,
He’d turn the square to a thoroughfare
So the cars could drive right through,
He didn’t care when the people there
Said ‘Leave our square alone!’
He said, ‘I’m passing an ordinance,
So you might as well go home.’
The local hall was agog that night
There’d never been such a crowd,
The villagers all were up in arms,
‘This fool shouldn’t be allowed!’
‘This calls for a special meeting,’ said
The spokesman, Rupert Bragg,
‘We’ll have to call on the village witch,
The widow, Nancy Stag!’
They all poured out of the village hall
And they went to see the witch,
Who was busily mixing potions in
A cauldron and a dish,
‘You’ll not be needing my magic,’ said
Old Nancy, with a smile,
‘If you all agree with my plan, you’ll see,
That Lars will run a mile.’
She asked the women to stay behind
While the men went on their way,
‘I mean the ones over seventy,
The rest can go or stay,’
They huddled up with the village witch
And applauded Nancy’s plan,
‘We’ll send him scuttling off from Mintz,
You’ll see, he’s only a man!’
When Lars came down in his private car
They met him in the square,
Holding banners and placards, but
That’s not what made him stare,
‘You’d better get back to Oberon
Or we’ll march there, for our rights,’
He turned, and hurriedly left the square,
They all were dressed in tights!’
David Lewis Paget
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
We were once all agog for the journey of life
Now just a mouse click leaves curiosity cured
Nescience masquerading as artificial cognizance is rife
Likes, follows, comments, thoughts and prayers lured
A slayer of ambition gave birth to the lazy
No will to work, no will to think, just click this link
And complain all day about how your life is crazy
Stare at the screen as if forgotten how to blink
Welcome to Medusa's social media inc.
Share every feeling that's on your mind
Arachne's weaving web now interlinks
A Giger painting has become mankind
It's embarrassing
It's depressing
It's caressing
It's inheriting
The natural beauty that lies outside
Left only viewed through filtered photos
Language devolved into hieroglyphic emoji replies
Tobler's ambition left reposed
Curiosity and ambition subdued
A final word
Adieu
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
The brilliance of stupidity,
the civil society is stunned to see
on what media is all agog,
in these, even otherwise ,volatile days
of vote bank skullduggery,
is an ill begotten progeny
of skewed intelligence gone
on an unprotected vacation to Paris
(quite recently, when the city
was in disarray) resulting in
spending a long weekend of sin
with vapidity as the preferred
regular escort and nocturnal companion.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Society, the nectarous drenched **** of gregarious giving.
Or so we think..
One must be diligent to not consume to the point of overweening upon her intoxicating milk.
"You can be anything" she coos delicately stroking your forehead.
My bleary scruffed state prevents me from feeling her venomous *****
I am rendered limp set agog by the hypnagogic melody of society.
Then there is you...
Your Wild renegade eyes pry me from my cemented prison.
Your Voltaic energy seeped in the poetry that coats my marrow and enamel, the substance of my soul.
Such beauty estranged from society? How can that be?
Was this matronly epicenter all farce and rigamarole?
I clamor in search for those eyes to appease my pain.
I search in vain..
until I face the mirror.
Those eyes belong to me, the remedy to society is the awakening of yourself, the claiming of your poetry.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
*the leaves on the tree
dance and are free
i walk and shake
the dust off my feet
and look up the sky'
like one able to greet
a world that's agog
the pantomime unfolds
the lurid drama lies bare
'neath our staring minds
the big apple is not so big
this was always an illusion
even in those days of plenty
when surfeit was a stranger
and none took more than they needed*
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
Stage lights burn out.
I am left agog.
Eyes drop
incredulously
as what I saw before me
was very restoring.
A story of humanity,
a Shakespearian epic,
a turbulent tempest
that hit me with
the fierceness of Hamlet.
As Othello’s hands
wrapped around
his beloved neck,
as Thibault killed Mercutio
As Ariel and Puck
played their trickster games,
as Prospero planned,
and Oberon dawned
his elvish Armor,
as Titania loved an ***
and saw false love pass;
As the thorny crown
of King Richard passed
then passed again
whilst he ruminated
nearly naked in a cell of
dirt and stone, alone,
halfway mad before
he made it there.
As Caesar bled
betrayed by Brutus
in the Ides of March,
I await more wonders
for Shakespeare
has so much more
I have yet to get to.
I am descended
from that poet’s heart.
who passed down his purchased arms
of false nobility
to become a man of property
not knowing his plays
would make him greater
than any noble man of his day.
After all the pleasure
I sit in awe and ponder,
what if he had the eyes to see
what faces us presently
would he wonder at the cleverness of us
or cower at the current level
of our stupidity?
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
This is the tale of the
Kid’s doll, the wallygog.
A doll meant to look like
A pale pitiful human hog
With a clammy white body
With wimpy yellow hair
And blue button eyes,
And cotton belly to spare.
It is so unattractive that
It must be that this toy
Is meant to insult them,
White girls and boys,
So that playing with it
Puts them in their place
As objects of ridicule
Laughs in the white face.
Because look how sad,
With wan sewn-open lips
And imitation Gap clothes
Sewn to shoulder and hip.
How foolish and rude
Is this toy made by fools.
Who can truly ignore
What is meant by this tool?
Yet is so popular now
The silly Wallygog today;
Some children refuse
As they grow, to set it away.
They carry it around
And it leaves me agog
That they never understand
What it means, this Wallygog.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
I need an auditorium
to whisper some secrets into.
I need a small room
to shout the pure absurdity that I’ve been thinking
I need a place
where I can hug in secret
I need a voice
to caress my mind, agog
I need some solitude
to fly me into those arms
I need the perfect words
to drive me away from broken promises
I need the largest imagination
to tell me what the **** I’m going to do next.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 3:29 PM UTC
Every drop of blood slaves shed
beneath the lash and rod
was repaid in kind at Sharpsburg
by the terrible swift sword.
Twenty three thousand Sacrificed
in joint sanquinity
to debate the principle
that all men should live free.
At Burnside's bridge,
on the sunken road,
The Landscape dripping red.
The wounded called for water
as they lay among the dead.
At the Whitewashed Dunker church
the Dutchmen stood agog
as the fearful toll was paid
by brave souls on either side.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
What Would I Do Without You?
(Or Scribbling in the Car)
What would I do without you, lexicon?
What would I do without you, dear thesaurus?
Rhyming book to rhyme with -saurus: chorus, porous, e’en papyrus if it fits?
Wiki’s storehouse ‘cyclopedia?
Little things that make me big and ‘pigg*:
Languages that set agog
The richness of the word?
So much I would not do without;
And isn’t that what life’s about!
Mind so connected to the word,
I would think
Without a varied herd of word
T’would shrink.
T’would atrophy,
T’would wear away,
Become cliché
As cliché wears away the play
From boredom’s lack of stimulation.
So connected is the action of the word
To all the wisdom, the absurd
in all the minds in all the world
Of minds and hearts unaired, impaired…
Is mind to word.
*pigg is Swedish for lively, spirited
What Would I Do Without You…Mind So Connected To The Word 7.19.2018 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
“We read to know we’re not alone.”
C.S. Lewis says, as a character in the film Shadowland
~~~
my lovers mumble when they leer and clear the
assorted sordid, livres with dust jackets, spines,
and notable ideas, POV’s that dare to offend; me
thinking seeing they’re uneasily resting uneasy, for
there appears to be some scales, mountains that need
mounting before they can successful scale my
heights, a big BE WARY atmospheric global warning
signs prior to enter my magic kingdom,
quizzes they are unassuaged they will pass
with any color schema,
let alone flying ones…
that amuses me, ah well, a sign of my changes, when
those days when a merely handsome man turned this
now skeptical-woman agog, and flushes of heat made
a breast beat, a flesh and blood chin, *** eyes, rock me
like a movie poster definition of movie poster handsome
they are smarter and when they cautiously inquire re my
diversity, a broadening array of fiction, philosophical disput-
ations, that lay and lie with me, they, and I bare skinned,
open to the ah ha! of titillating notions of human endeavor,
or British ****** mysteries, and lots and lots of history…
this commends and cerifies
my screening choices for,
when alone, I read
to know I am are not alone,
for my thoughts need hot
company, and my caress
of divers words diverges,
in so many directions, I need
assurance, insurance that the
men who wish to bed me are
capable of making love to my
mind, where stimulus and that
they can feed me endlessly a
variety of bouchées amusantes,
that wet my appetite for their
entirety
should they fail,
to for want of trying,
I comfort them obliquely,
informing them that
”We need to read to know we are not alone!”
Mar 3, 2024
Mar 3, 2024 at 8:33 PM UTC
We know not of that Woman,
though ‘tis known that for years
she has begged for death.
what marred such a creature?
unsought furtherance,
everlasting atrocity,
or a centaur,
agog martyrs and honor,
‘tis certain that,
once the castles are built,
their emperors,
though drunk on ***
and branded by adulation,
shall ascend.
but does fame bespeak
an eternity of pandemonium?
Perchance.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
I came across a strange man
while walking on my land
perched upon a rock
at me he waved his hand
as I approached him
offering this ,he said
"I have arrived here on this rock
at this present time"
"I am here to meet a fellow
traveler of time"
I stared at him agog
not believing what I heard
He said that on this spot
his arrival had been planned
I thought he asked what time it was
so I produced my watch
he slowly shook his head
and slyly ,he mocked
" What precisely is the year?"
he asked
as he sat back on the rock
I started to relay
an answer to the man
the year is 2768
that we are standing in
His eyes grew large
his face turned white
the blood just drained away
grasping at my shoulders
he asked
"What year did you say?"
again I told him the year
in which he had arrived
He screamed aloud and clutched his head
"why oh why oh why?"
"Why have I arrived here
so badly misplaced in time?"
"all that I have known
is now dust,just left behind"
"700 years ago my counterpart was here"
"I wonder how long he waited"
and did he remain here?"
I asked him the name
of this counterpart of his
I laughed aloud
as he relayed a name
that I knew well
he rattled off the name
of my ancestor and me
Our family had arrived here
oh so long ago
but it never was explained
just how this spot was chose
it seems clear enough
now that he is standing here
the man standing before me
was responsible it appears
for our people to have arose
from the very dust
of this tiny lonely rock
floating through the dusk
As I explained these facts
the man began to grin
"It looks as though our meeting
Has .. Finally... Happened
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Lisas and Cheryls in halter tops walk the
Halls of Stoughton High full
Throttle, coiffed fleece fiercely feathered,
Tonys and Tims trawling in tow, toting
Texts.
Tims and Tonys slip
Slyly away, skip shop, talk
**** **** a doob behind
Bob’s Baitshop’s garbage dunes, tunes of
Geils and Seeger and Stones, applaud
Lisas and Cheryls, laud deserving
Donnas and Dianes (but dude, don’t
Let on!)
See,
A solitary Tony takes to one shapely
Cheryl’s sultry swagger, staggers, blathers
His rathers, turning her hair’s fair feathers
A-flair, she helping his hand higher up her hip, her
Cup, her concupiscent luscious lower lemon-lacquered lip, he agog, a *****
Dog with a bone. And a libidinous loner
Lisa prefers a particular turgid Tim, digs
His Doors tee tucked
In to tight tan cords, affords
Herself a longer linger as his fingers
Dangle, thick thumbs hooked in belt. Looked at,
Felt, ***** his hip, flips a nod, draws a
Sneer, paws her rear, she his
Haunch, he steady and
Staunch, Steady and
Staunch
Not gonna
Launch
Steady
gawdamnsunuvabitch!
Thaws the sneer
Right there.
High gears it outta here.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
Remark, pageant, how well this worn Cartesian speaks silence instead of wit.
Crucify maybe and often; singsong prattle succumbs him you.
Torturified lamb’s breath, teensy sighs and sweep of tentacled agog garners attention and wildfire – hop and home to not attend, to see.
Brandish magma wake and crystal cleanse re-barb, vicious cycle in heat patterned pro-guiro neural network, neat, loud for senses laden.
Up them and through them.
Scent the seeks you stones in barb, a fence in white a guttered prose, slitherentine.
Stately made his gatekeep - defend you. Harbor outwards with willpower nonchalant.
Pardon his with provocations, decadent don’t they know. (You know you, don’t they?)
And then.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
*A Pale thick fog,
A dark moonless night,
To live forever we're agog,
Until death angel comes,
When your time runs out,
He finds you no doubt,
To lay your soul to waste,
To lay your soul out of this life,
You can hear nothing but him whispering,
Calling your name and death murmuring,
You see nothing but his face,
With every single breath,
You smell nothing but death,
You have no excuse,
You can't say no for death,
You can never refuse,
A dead horse you flog,
If you look for clues,
Only life to lose,
No options, it's fate,
You can never choose.*
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC