Monday, August 23, 2021

By One's Hand

 

By One’s Hand

 

Oh, Death where is your ring?

How many more moons will crown the vault of Heaven

Ere’ your folded, flesh-starved fingers

Surround bells that toll

 

Will you approach, hearing my cries

Rising from the depths of despair

Begging for you specter

Longing to taste your stale breath

Across my lips

 

Cruelly ignoring my last song

Tarrying within the darkness

Of wicked reverie and irrevocable return

A sneer scintillating deadly desires

 

Oh, Death lay bare how long

Ere’ the blade in my hand’s

Querulous path draws forth

Crimson streams freeing the scars of misery

Discharging the captor called Opium

 

Come, whisper caustic rhymes in my ear

Exhaling breath tainted

With the stench of annihilation

Usher me into your bosom

 

Persuade my wavering hand

To carve away

Etching an endless trail

Of miserly shame

 

Doing what the gods have denied

Doing…

What I have been unable to do


No comments:

Post a Comment

Random Thoughts

Hold My Hand

If you were to ask any of my children what colloquial truisms they recall their father uttering as they passed from toddler to young ad...