Living…

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Pocketed there fake maneuvers,
Empty currency clinging,
Close at hearts pace,
The foul sorceress plays,
Malicious chants, feverish blaze,
For it never was the same,
By goners and giggly raves,
Marooned in a night’s fame,
Honour be the present.
And duty should the name,
Coming together,
But a silver moon?
Reflecting ever still,
Sudden a pang, full of misery…

“What was that?”
“A broken glass!”
“Who broke it?”
“I don’t know…”

Rhubarbs sharing costumes,
Delight at stage,
Maybe too much at stake,
Fallen angels and revisited memories,
Beloved duties and alters shaping!
Give him the want, a lively need,
A shelter and some food,
Cautioned in a cold blanket,
Smothering a new pleasure,
A muse lost in misery…

Come to me,
I will keep you safe,
Hidden in tranquil mauve,
Chalice and a dreamy ooze,
Wretched my existence,
Futile the game,
Stiffened in gold,
Grey matters, frothy and numb,
Producing a callous jigsaw,
Measuring the might,
Smokes all around then…

“What is this now?”
“A tired tree!”
“What has it been doing?”
“Living…”

Aloof, unreported and unseen,
Humbles of viscous greenery,
A deader bark,
Coming leaves,
Fluting the pain,
Rejoicing again…

***

 

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