ourtimes

 

Outlandish ponderous propositions,
From a red lady championing sordid lies,
Words imitating superstitions,
From behind deeply dead ocean blue eyes.

 

But what is to be said to such trappings,
Of voices in deceptive overtones,
Guised in rose petals and thorny wrappings,
To swim in shallows or the deep with stones.

 

Daring to meet eyes with shuddering breaths,
As lungs fill with the beats of warning drums,
Sending sensibilities to their deaths,
Pure ignorance in the face of what comes.

 

An eternity of lunacy’s silence,
Never blinking or turning fated heads,
Transfixed by the deepest tempting iris,
As her dark madness envelops and spreads.

 

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