Forward March

Toward entropy tending wilting flesh

Senescence essentialised what’s fresh

Decays before day’s end what’s left

Chaffe, loam to begin again 

Bereft of feeling and want for feeling

Gaining false power by apathy

Shock of new pyramid, open palm theremounds time’s sands

Standing still for no man, like a fire as it stands

Rearing revolting, frank with demands 

Darkness fringes the light-made land

Sidereal secrets bosomed beneath bear claws, twin stars alike to fault

As like to fall


High-ceiling chambers redolent with sage smells, seigneurial

Though rude and base this Man, swear any who knew him 

Slippery eel, sticky hands like he orange peeled 


Fellmonger has his orders, new face by midnight or else

Cavorters and revellers who know my face keep to themselves

Day fed its twice-twelves huffs into the next, things a path could tell

Statues in windows marking miniature Montos, drugs to sell

And bloodstreams afoot in which they will dwell, brown powder cell

Like a pit lift lowers seven layers, good intentions cobbles, down to Hell

Dante’s hell indeed, devil may cry but not when men die, rather laughter loud as bells

Peeling over the deepest dells

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