The Deanery

 

Your breath of stale tobacco,

And mine of a sour red wine,

My floor show of cheap Bordeaux,

And yours of old man’s decline.

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Fancy

 

We, obeying the laws of time,

An eternity of fancy,

When you did dance inside my rhyme,

As unbridled as a wild pansy.

—————————————————————————————

Bells

 

And as pure spirit has flown,

In these sad times on which we dwell,

And the barbed sound of the phone,

Is the tone of the final bell.

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Please

 

Please;

Courteous as a lady,

Daring as a discarded mistress,

The villain I am lately,

I am begging for your forgiveness.

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Erosion

 

Unable to write for beauty,

Ensnared by the foreboding,

Marching to my death’s duty,

My mind calmly eroding.

—————————————————————————————

Breathe

 

And I breathe your breath,

And I beat your heart,

But, awaiting for death,

From the very start.

—————————————————————————————

Where?

 

Neither good not bad,

Neither here nor there,

With my words ironclad,

And leading, but to where?

—————————————————————————————

Cheap

 

A shadow of a man,

Rewriting curves of time,

So careless and deadpan,

History but cheap rhyme.

—————————————————————————————

Unheralded

 

With no actions warranted,

As I am mercurial,

For angels unheralded,

Absent at my burial.

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Versions

 

I wrote a version of me,

That was free from all constraints,

And still I can never be,

Counted among your just saints.

—————————————————————————————

Chandelier

 

‘Neath a chandelier of rust,

The lights shine on brooding hills,

And longing for this closed lust,

I do burrow from the chills.

—————————————————————————————

Inkwell

 

In my inkwell, I sow my gown,

In my inkwell, I softly drown.

In my inkwell, I hear no sound.

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Deaf

 

Warm as the womb’s embrace,

Escape to innocence,

Shedding my primal lace,

Deaf to all stimulus.

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As We Are

 

Precarious as the world becomes,

When one looses the motive to breathe.

Stay with me.

As we are.

Forever.

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Marcia

 

With one bead through fifty five,

With one word through a lifetime,

And for those of left still alive;

Sweet nothings of pantomime.

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Sacrifice

 

Sacrifice all I am,

With a heartbeat to churn,

To slaughter as a lamb;

Myself for your return.

—————————————————————————————

War

 

We lived for the sunrise,

Braving though our sorrow,

From a time to despise,

Ne’er to see the morrow.

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Angles

 

With perfect angles,

Nothing but ideals,

We are in tangles,

With bare souls to reveal.

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Leaves

 

Many leaves on the river,

Floating nonchalantly by,

For all that they can deliver;

Are passing thoughts without reply.

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